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tibrarjo  of  Che  theological  ^eminarjp 


PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 


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PRESENTED  BY 

Ys.le  Divinity  School  Library 


3V  5271  .J33  W8  1890 
^^yeth,  Walter  N.  1833-1899 
Zmily  C.  Judson 


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{Fanny  Forester.) 


JUL    5  1950 


EMILY  C.  JUDSdl^^^^^ 


31  ^i^moxiaL 


By  WALTER  N.  W^ETH,  D.  D., 

PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 


I  do  not  ask  that  Thou  shouldst  lift 
My  feet  to  mountain  heights  sublime, 

So  much  as  for  the  heavenly  gift 
Of  strength,  with  which  myself  may  climb 

Making  the  power  Thou  madest  mine 

For  using,  by  that  use,  divine. 

Alice  Gary. 


PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 

Published  by  the  Author. 

1890. 


To  "The  Temple  Builders," 
engaged  in 
Spreading  the  Gospel. 
Very  Sincerely, 
The  Author. 


Electrotyped.  Printed  and  Bound  by  Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress, 

C    J    KREHBIEL  &  CO.  i"  the  year  1890,  by  W.  N.  WyeTH. 

Nos.  248  and  250  Walnut  Street.  i"  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of 

CINCINNATI.  Congress,  at  Washington. 


TT  is  with  the  gratification  that  attends  success,  and 
^  with  the  pleasure  which  accompanies  admiration  of 
the  subject,  that  the  author  adds  this  volume,  the  third 
of  the  series,  to  the  Missionary  Memorials  already  pub- 
lished. The  acceptance  which  the  former  ones  have  en- 
joyed, and  the  completeness  this  one  gives  to  the  biog- 
raphies of  the  trio  of  illustrious  wives  of  Dr.  Judson,  as- 
sure for  it  as  large  a  circulation  as  that  of  the  others. 
Like  those,  it  is  an  independent  narrative;  yet  proper 
regard  has  been  had  for  all  the  writings  accessible  con- 
cerning the  subject.  The  author  would  mention,  with 
peculiar  admiration,  the  '*  Life  and  Letters  of  Emily  C. 
Judson,"  by  Dr.  A.  C.  Kendrick,  in  which  are  found  au- 
thentic letters  and  documents  of  much  importance  to  the 
biographer. 

There  is  a  charm  to  such  a  character  as  that  of  Emily 
Chubbuck,  and  a  lesson  in  her  trying  and  eventful  career 
that  is  of  great  value  to  the  young,  especially  such  as 
must  cope  with  great  difficulties  if  they  would  succeed 
in  life.  Her  life  presents  a  fine  example  of  superiority 
to  circumstances,  and  of  loyalty  and  love  for  parents 
that  needs  to  be  emphasized  and  followed. 

The  missionary  element  of  this  beautiful  character 
is  worth  noting,  as  showing  how  one  with  the  right  spirit 

iii 


iv  PREFATORY  NOTE. 

may  be  eflfective  for  good,  in  some  way,  on  any  field.  Her 
development  in  this  service  came  late  but  it  was  very  rapid. 
Her  mind  was  immediately  engrossed  with  family  cares, 
and  this  circumstance,  with  her  coyness  and  illness,  kept 
her  back  from  public  work  to  some  extent,  yet  she  per- 
formed much  literary  and  spiritual  labor  in  the  mission, 
and  endeared  herself  to  the  native  Christians.  For  the 
time  and  opportunity  given  her  she  made  a  creditable 
record  in  the  service.  The  author  trusts  that  his  readers 
will  enjoy  and  be  benefited  by  this  story  of  heroism  in 
humble  life. 

W.  N.  W. 

No.  854  Union  Street, 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  April  i,  1890. 


PAGK. 
I.      FOREGlyKAMS— PI.ACE   AND   PERSON, 7 

II.    Morning— Ci<ouD  and  Sky, 15 

III.  Ephemera— Home  and  Heai^th, 28 

IV.  New  Arena— ScHooiviNG,  "Trippings," 41 

V.    Authorship— A  Friend  in  Need, 54 

VI.    Charmed  Watch— The  Swift  Secret, 68 

VII.  G1.1MPSES— New  Attitudes,  Old  Paths,    ....    80 

VIII.    Marriage— Adieus,  Ocean,  Orient,      95 

IX.    SETT1.1NG— Green  Turban's  Den, 107 

X.    MauIvMain— Three  Years  There, 123 

XI.  "The  Iron  Cross"— Homeward  Fi^ight,  ...  137 

XII.  Authorship  Again — For  Love  and  for  Life,  •  150 

XIII.  Eventide— Preparing  for  Rest, 162 

XIV.  Suppi^ementary—"  Madness  of  the  Mission- 

ary Enterprise," 175 


^0  ve&cvte  ttivivt0vi»  ttction»  front 

tit«  jc»iTlit»i0n  t0  txtixicH  a  mant  of  vec0vXi» 
^t»axtlb  con&i^n  ilyent* 

Tacitus — "  C/se  of  History''' 


EMILY  C.  JUDSON. 
I. 

g0ViC^Uam0— PLACE  AND  PERSON. 

Better  to  stem  with  heart  and  hand 
The  roaring  tide  of  life,  than  lie 

Unmindful,  on  its  flowery  strand. 
Of  God's  occasions  drifting  by. 

Whittier. 

Those  jewels  saved  in  heaven, 

And  the  garnered  prayers  and  tears, 
All  good  for  which  he's  striven, 

Through  weary,  toilsome  years, 
Up  in  that  world  of  rest 

His  monument  shall  be ; 
For  the  spring  his  finger  pressed 

Has  moved  eternity. 

Emii,y  C.  Judson, 
^'Tribute  to  Rev.  Daniel  Hascall.'^ 

FAME  is  sometimes  dual.  A  person  and  a  place  be- 
come united  in  reputation.  While  each  may  pos- 
sess elements  of  superiority,  and  be  mentioned  alone,  it 
often  occurs  that  one  derives  note  from  the  other,  and 
that  they  are  mutually  helpful  to  a  just  renown. 

The  glen  or  height  that  impresses  the  observer  as 
being  peculiarly  a  product  of  God's  skillful  hand  be- 
comes the  producer  of  a  mind  that  is  capable  of  seeing 
and  describing  it,  and  of  giving  wings  to  its  name. 

7 


8  EMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

Scenery  is  a  nurse  of  genius,  while  genius  reveals  its 
beauties  to  eyes  not  swift  to  discover  nor  strong  to 
compass  them.  Cooper  had  his  Cooperstown ;  while 
this  picturesque  village,  nestling  among  the  hills  of 
central  New  York,  became  famous  through  him.  In 
the  same  region  of  hills  and  lakes  is  Hamilton,  of 
many  years  and  excellent  name,  the  seat  of  a  well- 
known  university  and  the  nurse  of  piety  and  talent. 

From  University  Hill,  looking  northward,  the  ob- 
server has  a  full  view,  at  the  first  glance,  of  the  lovely 
village  of  the  plain.  It  is  a  fine  mosaic  of  homes, 
reaching  on  the  right  and  on  the  left  to  the  limits  of 
the  plain,  and  variegated  with  abundant  bristling  ever- 
greens and  luxuriant  maples.  In  summer  its  dwell- 
ings are  shielded  from  the  sun  by  the  most  affluent 
foliage.  From  the  foot  of  the  Hill  it  stretches  north- 
ward, having  an  air  of  newness  as  it  advances,  and 
showing  its  growth  most  in  the  distance.  It  termi- 
nates at  Woodman's  Pond,  a  lovel}^  circular  lakelet, 
bayonetted  about  with  pines  and  cedars,  and  just  visi- 
ble from  the  Hill,  in  which  fowls  and  fishes  play,  and 
the  silent  stars  mirror  themselves  in  unruffled  beauty. 

On  the  right  and  the  left,  grand  and  graceful 
heights,  like  the  extended  arms  of  a  giant,  hold  the 
town  within  the  plain  ;  approaching  each  other  far  to 
the  north  and  taking  the  lake  into  their  embrace.  On 
their  sunny  slopes  rest  the  quiet  homes  of  contented 
people,  who  follow  the  herd  and  turn  the  sod  for  a 
moderate  subsistence.  At  the  base  of  each  range  a 
brook  runs  southward,  meandering  to  the  east  and  the 
west  of  University  Hill  and  soon  forming  the  Chenan- 
go, a  river  that  threads  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  same 


A   MKMORIAI,.  9 

name,  and  with  it  widens  and  extends  to  the  Susque- 
hanna. 

The  sun  has  a  cold  atmosphere  to  withstand,  and 
great  eminences  to  surmount.  It  is  late  in  bringing 
the  day  over  the  one  summit,  and  early  in  its  west- 
ering beyond  the  other.  The  sky  arches  this  Httle 
world  of  Hamilton  in  something  of  an  Arctic  splen- 
dor, with  its  bearings  firmly  fixed  on  the  circumja- 
cent hills.  Viewed  at  the  great  range  which  the 
position  offers  to  the  eye  and  which  the  magnitudes 
presented  require,  the  scene  is  surpassingly  lovely 
and  impressive.  It  stills  the  tongue  and  awakens 
reverie. 

And  reverie  is  increased  as  the  observer  turns  and 
looks  upon  the  University  buildings,  in  which,  for  gen- 
erations, minds  have  been  trained  to  do  the  world's 
work ;  and  beyond  the  terrace  upon  which  they  stand, 
to  the  "form  sublime,"  the  monster  hill,  in  the  shadow 
of  which  they  rest.  This  hill  on  the  south,  towering 
almost  to  the  path  of  the  sun  and  well-nigh  hiding  his 
winter  march,  contains  immense  supplies  of  rock  and 
other  valuable  deposits  of  nature.  But  the  most  cher- 
ished treasures  hidden  in  its  bosom  are  the  remains  of 
men  who  served  their  generation  by  the  will  of  God 
and  here  fell  asleep.  Here  is  the  dust  of  Presidents — 
Nathaniel  Kendrick,  Stephen  W.  Taylor,  George  W. 
Eaton,  Kbenezer  Dodge — dust  that  gives  sanctity  to 
the  ground  in  which  it  reposes,  and  adds  lustre  to  the 
annals  of  the  communitj^  The  cemetery,  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  village,  north,  contains  the  remains 
of  many  who,  as  counselors  and  supporters  of  the 
workers  on  the  Hill,  form  the  complementary  chapter 


lO  EMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

in  the  history  of  the  locality.  Some  returning  from 
life's  work  elsewhere  have  found  their  resting  place 
there.  One  of  these,  with  whom  this  volume  is  special- 
ly concerned,  lies  beneath  a  stone  marked,  with  most 
appropriate  simplicity, 

H)ear  jBmil^. 

Inwood  and  Woodland  Height,  with  the  serpentine 
path  intervening  and  running  from  the  buildings  to 
the  plain,  and  the  Spear  Home,  each  with  its  beautiful 
frontage  and  prominence,  ranked  among  the  old  time 
attractions.  I^ate  improvements  and  growths  impart 
to  the  several  college  eminences  new  grandeur  and 
beauty,  and  the  outlook  from  either,  or  the  onlook  from 
the  town,  gives  to  the  beholder  the  thought  of  a  pro- 
vision for  the  ages. 

On  the  farther  side  of  these  ranges,  right  and  left, 
are  places  of  interest.  Of  some,  age  is  the  most  notice- 
able feature.  Man  has  not  found  in  all  the  opportunity 
that  fully  enlists  his  powers,  while  Nature  has  proven 
her  independent  force  in  stream  and  shrub  and  other 
elements  of  life.  Villages  barely  sustain  their  visibili- 
ty away  from  the  throbbing  world;  but  old  Earth  re- 
tains its  identity,  and  thrives  on. 

This  picturesque  region  of  central  New  York, 
bounded  according  to  the  fancy  of  the  viewer,  has 
been  a  realm  of  intellect  and  a  radiating  center  of 
moral  power  for  a  long  time.  It  was  settled  in  seques- 
tered clusters,  where  inviting  streams  proffered  power 
to  the  manufacturer  and  their  sunny  banks  a  margin 
of  soil  to  the  husbandman.  The  settlers  came  from 
the  east,  where  school  advantages  were  prominent,  and 


A   MKMORIAI,.  II 

at  once  sought  to  create  a  corresponding  atmosphere 
in  their  respective  communities ;  and  to  this  day  not 
the  common  school  alone,  but  likewise  institutions  of 
higher  learning  are  found  in  proper  distribution. 

Hamilton  is  practically  a  center  to  this  section.  In 
age,  in  the  beauty  of  its  situation  and  improvements, 
and  the  character  of  its  inhabitants  from  the  first,  it 
has  unquestioned  eminence.  A  century  ago  the  sin- 
ewy New  Knglander  found  a  home  here,  and  from  the 
time  of  his  settlement  his  name  has  not  ceased  to  go 
upon  its  annals,  civil  and  religious.  The  town  has 
been  a  pulsating  heart  and  an  imparting  brain  to  the 
latitude  and  to  the  wide  world.  The  sun  has  revealed 
its  attractiveness  and  drawn  it  out  into  the  highest 
expression,  while  itself  has  proved  to  be  a  sun  of  not  a 
little  power  and  wideness  of  shining. 

To  this  locality  came,  a  century  ago,  robust  men 
of  the  Granite,  Green  Mountain  and  other  men-pro- 
ducing states.  They  came  to  plant  for  God  and  their 
kind. 

"They  took  fire  from  Isaiah  in  bosom  and  brain, 
And  embroidered  the  age  on  whose  border  they  stood." 

The  thought  of  a  school  for  the  training  of  youth  to 
perform  superior  service  for  the  church  and  the  world, 
and  of  founding  it  here,  first  took  possession  of 
their  minds,  and  through  them  became  a  dominant 
idea  throughout  the  region.  They  moved  slowly,  yet 
strongly.  They  gave  a  new  atmosphere  to  the  place  ; 
and  those  who  breathed  it  drank  early  and  deeply  of 
their  spirit. 

Very  soon  the  hills  round  about  became  resonant 


12  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

with  a  new  order  of  voices,  which  have  not  died  awa}^ 
but  rather  have  increased  in  number ;  and  these  have 
resolutely  announced  the  Great  Commission  to  the 
dwellers  in  the  vales  and  on  the  hill-tops  to  this  day. 
The  joyful  sound  widened  out  into  all  the  country. 
Old  men  began  to  dream  dreams,  such  as  they  had  not 
dreamed  aforetime ;  young  men  saw  visions,  and  sons 
and  daughters  commenced  to  prophesy.  A  man  of 
Macedonia  stood  before  them.  Crying  for  help,  he 
kindled  their  sympathies.  An  enlarged  vision  of  the 
truth  and  a  "  famine  of  the  word "  occurred  to  the 
mind  simultaneously  and  with  wonderful  effect.  The 
first  student  in  the  new  school,  a  spectre  to  some  of 
the  saints  and  a  glad  fruition  to  others,  went  up  to  the 
prophet's  chamber  that  he  might  improve  his  gift  of 
prophesy.* 

Was  it  strange  that  a  rising  missionary  force,  in  a 
period  of  missionary  awakening,  should  deeply  impress 
the  people  of  God?  In  the  institution  the  nascent  mis- 
sionary was  the  ideal  student,  as  the  minister  was  the 
ideal  man.  And  how  beautiful  upon  the  mountains 
were  the  feet  of  them,  as  they  proclaimed  the  good  tid- 
ings and  called  upon  a  recreant  church  to  send  them 
on,  over  the  seas,  to  the  sunny  climes  of  the  Orient ! 

Was  it  strange  that  woman's  alert  mind  should  be 
reached  by  the  teachings  of  her  superiors,  and  reflec- 
tion on  the  great  truths  in  the  foreground  be  awak- 
ened? With  her  active  sensibilities  the  doctrines  con- 
cerning the  lost  condition  of  the  race,  and  the  conse- 

*Rev.  Jonathan  Wade,  D.  D.,  so  long  an  eminent  missionary  in  the 
East.  He  began  his  recitations,  according-  to  the  undoubted  tradition,  in 
the  sleeping-room  of  Professor  Daniel  Hascall. 


A   MKMORIAI,.  13 

quent  duty  of  Christians  to  spread  the  Gospel,  took 
firm  hold  of  her  heart.  She  became  ''wise-hearted,"  and 
spun  and  knitted  and  wove,  and  brought  the  varied 
products  of  her  fingers  to  the  Lord's  treasury.  Mean- 
time the  pioneer  churches  were  revived  under  the  new 
missionary  impulse,  and  rude  temples  became  glorious 
on  account  of  the  presence  of  the  Shechinah. 

What  wonder,  too,  that  woman's  heart,  even  at  that 
early  day,  should  be  touched  with  a  peculiar  sympathy 
for  the  work  of  missions  as  a  personal  privilege !  The 
laborer  was  worthy  of  his  help-meet,  and  the  woman 
was  worthy  to  participate  in  his  "  hire."  Besides,  there 
was  a  peculiar  adaptedness  in  work  for  the  heathen  to 
arouse  woman's  nature,  and  to  cause  her  to  lay  her 
energies  under  contribution  and  to  risk  her  life  in  it; 
and  this  fact  gave  nerve  to  him  who  needed  her  spirit, 
joined  unto  his  own,  when  about  to  place  himself  on 
the  altar  of  missions. 

Beyond  the  great  ridge  on  the  left,  northward,  lived 
some  upon  whom  focalized  an  unusual  interest ;  among 
them  a  young  woman  in  the  very  humblest  life,  a 
bright  but  tremulous  star  in  occultation.  She  event- 
ually evinced  such  striking  traits  of  mind  that  her 
name  came  to  be  woven  into  a  fadeless  chaplet  upon 
which  American  readers  delighted  to  bestow  their 
praises.  Her  native  hills  became  vocal  with  the  verses 
of  her  girlish  pen ;  the  scenes  of  her  childhood  and 
first  endeavors  were  rendered  fascinating  by  her 
characterizations  of  them,  while  herself,  poetic  sprite 
that  she  was,  became  an  object  of  sympathetic  interest 
through  a  brilliant  though  brief  career.  Her  piety 
pervaded  her  mental  creations  and  savored  her  expe- 


14  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

riences,  whether  in  the  buoyancy  of  health  or  "in  the 
land  of  her  affliction." 

This  character,  of  exceptional  prominence,  had  a 
strange  Providential  leading,  full  of  loving  lessons  and 
severe  strains,  and  culminating  in  a  sphere  of  honor 
and  usefulness  to  which  any  pious  heart  might  aspire 
as  the  goal  of  life.  To  glance  at  the  places  where  she 
lived  and  labored,  and  to  collect  the  beams  of  her  shin- 
ing for  the  enlightenment  of  the  youth  of  to-day,  is  the 
aim  of  this  narrative.  The  girl  and  the  woman,  the 
author  and  the  missionary — all  tried  and  tempered  in 
the  school  of  adversity — will  make  up  the  instructive 
"  true  story"  herein  given. 


A   MEMORIAI..  15 

II. 

'^0vnin0— CLOUD  and  sky. 

Oft  have  I  sat,  in  moonlit  hours, 

Beside  the  brook  where  sweet  wild-flowers 

Perfumed  the  evening  air; 
Low  drooped  the  alders,  as  to  trace 
Soft  mysteries  on  the  water's  face, 

And  I  was  free  from  care. 

Lavinia  R.  Chubbuck. 

Ill  that  He  blesses  is  our  good, 

And  unblessed  good  is  ill; 
And  all  is  right  that  seems  most  wrong, 

If  it  be  His  sweet  will. 

Faber. 

EMILY  CHUBBUCK  was  a  ''child  of  genius  and 
song";  the  first  to  awaken  in  her  native  hills  an 
echo  of  praise  to  the  strains  of  poetry  and  the  beau- 
ties of  prose,  the  creations  of  the  place.  Hers  was  a 
launch  in  the  life  of  letters  that  exemplified  a  true  in- 
dependence of  mind,  as  to  both  the  character  of  the 
writing  and  its  purpose.  She  was  without  anteced- 
ents to  support  her,  and  had  not  a  shadow  of  prestige 
to  make  room  for  her ;  while  her  surroundings  were  a 
succession  of  obstacles  that  only  the  firmest  fortitude, 
with  the  helping  hand  of  God,  could  surmount.  She 
stood  alone  in  her  community,  in  the  solitude  of  her 
originality  and  fight  with  fortune. 

She  was  born  August  22,  1817,  one  mile  and  a  half 


l6  EMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

south  of  the  village  of  Eaton,  and  five  miles  from 
Hamilton,  just  beyond  the  range  on  the  left.  The  lit- 
tle house  of  her  nativity  early  disappeared,  and  her 
childhood  was  passed  in  another  near  by,  built  by  her 
grandfather,  **  stuck  in  the  side  of  the  hill,"  and  cele- 
brated by  her  own  pen  as  "  Underbill  Cottage."  It 
was  on  a  farm,  with  a  trout-stream  bordered  by  spotted 
alders  running  through  it.  The  public  road  passed 
just  above  it,  and  its  roof  sloped  down  so  nearly  to 
the  ground  on  the  upper  side  that  one  might  believe 
he  could  "  step  from  the  road  to  the  tip  of  the 
chimney."  "Alderbrook  "  ran  below  it,  and  "  Straw- 
berry Hill"  rose  just  be5^ond.  It  was  half-hidden 
in  trees  and  shrubbery,  with  wild  and  cultivated  vines 
clambering  over  it,  and  the  old  red  rose  and  other 
sweet  flowers  of  the  age  of  simplicity  exhaled  their 
fragrance  at  the  doors  and  windows.  Amid  the 
wilds  of  the  glen,  and  along  the  murmuring  stream, 
which  gave  name  to  the  heroine's  best  writings,  the 
entrancing  "Alderbrook,"  the  Chubbuck  children  spent 
their  guileless  years,  and  wove  a  bond  of  local  and 
mutual  attachment  that  never  was  in  the  least  re- 
laxed. 

The  parents,  Charles  and  Lavinia  R.  Chubbuck, 
came  from  New  Hampshire  to  the  above  locality,  in 
1816.  They  brought  with  them  four  children,  and 
to  this  number  several  were  added,  making  them 
"  blessed  "  with  children.  They  made  their  ofispring 
heirs  to  poverty  and  disease ;  yet  they  endowed  them 
with  some  superior  gifts,  and  gave  them  a  heritage  of 
virtue  amid  the  most  exacting  cares  and  the  fiercest 
fight  with  circumstances.     Both  were  intelligent,  but 


A   MEMORIAL.  17 

in  some  of  the  essentials  to  prosperity  they  were  un- 
equally yoked.  The  fine  intellect  of  the  mother  con- 
tained the  element  of  practical  sagacity,  but  it  could 
not  compensate  for  the  lack  of  that  needful  quality  in 
the  "  head  "  of  affairs ;  hence  the  comforts  they  once 
had  were  ere  long  wanting,  and  there  was  not  the 
worldly  wisdom  to  restore  them.  Things  continued 
as  they  began ;  schemes  failed,  and  the  greatest  efforts 
brought  but  the  barest  subsistence. 

Emily  came  as  the  fifth  child,  "born  for  adver- 
sity," and,  while  sustaining  a  fragile  constitution  of 
her  own,  her  time  and  place  in  the  family  brought 
upon  her  heart  and  hands  the  frailties  that  had  been 
ripening  in  the  older  ones.  Before  she  was  fifteen 
years  of  age  she  had  seen  two  of  her  elder  sisters 
wither  at  the  hearthstone,  and  had  devoted  to  them 
the  sympathetic  powers  of  her  own  fragile  being. 
Late  in  her  career  she  embalmed  them  in  an  affection- 
ate tribute  entitled  "  My  Two  Sisters."  The  unity  of 
the  family  was  strengthened,  doubtless,  by  means  of 
the  penury  in  whose  relentless  grip  it  was  held. 
Emily  evinced  such  a  tender  attachment  to  each  mem- 
ber and  such  a  sense  of  responsibility  for  all,  that  her 
girlhood  was  almost  buried  beneath  the  burdens  she 
bore  on  their  behalf. 

Speaking  of  a  period  still  earlier,  she  says  :  "  I  was 
an  exceedingly  delicate  child,  and  my  mother  was 
often  warned  that  she  could  *  have  me  with  her  but  a 
short  time.'  I  remember  being  much  petted  and  in- 
dulged during  my  first  years,  and  also  being  several 
times  prostrated  for  a  week  or  more  after  a  day's  visit 
with  my  little  cousins.    The  first  event  of  any  impor- 


l8  EMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

tance  which  I  remember  is  the  conversion  of  my  sister 
I^avinia,  when  I  was  about  seven  years  of  age." 

When  Emily  was  in  her  eleventh  year,  the  family 
removed  to  Pratt's  Hollow,  a  small  village  some  miles 
to  the  northeastward,  where  there  was  a  woolen 
factory.  The  poverty  of  the  family  continued,  and  it 
became  necessary  for  this  daughter,  presumably  better 
able  to  work  than  were  her  weaker  sisters,  to  improve 
the  opportunity  for  employment  which  the  factory 
presented,  and  for  which,  perhaps,  the  change  had 
been  made.  She  says  :  "  We  were  at  this  time  very, 
very  poor,  and  did  not  know  on  one  day  what  we 
should  eat  the  next,  otherwise  I  should  not  have  been 
placed  at  such  hard  work.  My  parents,  however,  ju- 
diciously allowed  me  to  spend  half  my  wages  (the 
whole  was  one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents  per  week) 
as  I  thought  proper ;  and  in  this  way,  with  numerous 
incentives  to  economy,  I  first  learned  the  use  of 
money."  Penury  is  a  severe  master,  yet  its  discipline 
in  this  case,  beginning  so  early,  may  have  wrought 
in  her  the  element  of  thrift  that  soon  began  to  appear. 

The  work  given  to  girls,  in  the  woolen-mills  of 
fifty  years  ago,  was  the  splicing  of  rolls;  a  monoto- 
nous work,  devoid  of  interest,  requiring  fingers  and 
not  brains.  And  while  it  was  satisfactory  to  those 
whose  thoughts  would  not  rise  above  their  wages,  it 
was  drudgery  to  her,  except  as  her  mind  was  occupied 
with  the  pleasant  thought  that  she  was  acting  loyally 
toward  those  she  loved,  or  with  other  thoughts  equally 
elevating.  As  servile  toil  it  was  debilitating ;  and  she 
testifies  that  during  the  first  summer  her  principal  re- 
membrances were  of  '*  noise  and  filth,  bleeding  hands 


A   MEMORIAly.  19 

and  aching  feet,  and  a  very  sad  heart."  She  was  too 
deHcate  physically,  and  of  too  fine  a  mould  mentally 
and  morally,  to  be  insensible  to  the  racket  or  in  com- 
fortable harmony  with  her  surroundings. 

And  yet  there  was  some  compensation  in  the  case  ; 
chiefly  in  the  affluence  of  her  own  soul,  which,  even  at 
that  early  day,  rose  and  regaled  itself  in  the  higher 
sphere  of  thought  and  feeling.  She  could  be  superior 
to  her  work  without  despising  or  neglecting  it.  She 
could  "  mind  her  work,"  there  was  so  little  to  be 
"minded,"  and  still  have  the  use  of  her  faculties  for 
such  thinking  as  was  congenial  to  her.  However, 
to  rise  above  weariness  and  dejection  in  such  a  place 
was  not  easy  for  a  3^oung  girl  who,  like  the  flowers 
she  so  much  loved,  required  the  open  air  and  genial 
sun. 

The  society  in  the  factory,  though  not  absolutely 
bad,  was  not  so  favorable  to  her  character  as  the  nar- 
row circumstances  of  her  poverty-stricken  home.  She 
says:  "The  girls  were,  most  of  them,  great  novel- 
readers,  and  they  used  to  lend  their  novels  to  me, 
first  exacting  a  promise  that  I  would  not  tell  my 
mother  and  sister,"  The  novels  of  that  day  which 
were  found  in  the  small  circulating  libraries  were 
mostly  of  one  cast :  consisting  of  exaggerated  exhibi- 
tions of  love,  disasters  or  successes,  and  very  natur- 
ally and  properly  were  considered  corrupting  in  their 
tendencies.  The  very  term  "  novel"  was  felt  to  be 
synonymous  with  corruption,  and  the  young  who  in- 
dulged in  them  secreted  them  from  their  parents. 

The  use  of  the  imagination  in  alleviating  the  ex^ 
perience  of  rough  realities  in  life  is  illustrated  in  this 


20  :eMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

case.  Emily  says :  "  When  I  had  finished  one  (novel), 
I  used  to  carry  out  the  story,  and  imagine  my  favor- 
ite character  going  on,  on — but  it  always  would  end 
in  death.  Of  what  avail,  then,  was  the  beauty?  Of 
what  use  the  wealth  and  honor?  At  other  times, 
while  at  my  work,  I  used  to  make  a  heroine  of  myself. 
My  uncle  Jonathan  (who  was  lost  twenty  years  before 
while  on  a  voyage  to  India)  would  come  home  and 
make  me  an  heiress ;  or  my  face,  which  people  used 
sometimes  to  praise,  would  become  so  beautiful  as  to 
bewitch  the  whole  world;  or  I  should  be  a  brilliant 
poetess  (my  verses  were  greatly  admired  by  my 
brothers  and  sisters),  and  my  name  would  be  famous 
while  the  world  stood." 

This  girlish  fancy  was  not  only  a  relieving  trait 
in  her  hard  life,  giving  lightness  to  an  otherwise  heavy 
heart,  but  it  likewise  contained  a  foregleam  of  what 
she  actually  would  be.  Hers  was  not  the  low  appe- 
tite for  gross  details  in  a  story  and  the  thrill  that  fol- 
lows ;  but,  rather,  a  love  for  the  realm  of  the  imagina- 
tion and  a  joy  in  peopling  it  with  striking  charac- 
ters that  should  represent  something  true,  beautiful 
and  good.  It  was  her  mental  ''play-house"  then,  to 
be  enjoyed  amid  her  toils ;  it  afterward  became  to  her 
a  sphere  of  noble  service. 

The  factory  ran  by  water,  but  the  severe  weather 
of  that  latitude  often  locked  it  in  icy  chains,  and  thus 
made  a  cessation  of  work  absolutely  unavoidable.  On 
such  occasions  she  aimed  to  occupy  the  "  breathing 
spells  "  in  improving  her  education  by  the  use  of  such 
advantages  as  she  had.  Her  journal  states  :  "  The  ice 
stopped  the  water-wheel,  and  the  factory  was  closed 


A  MEMORIAL.  21 

for  a  few  months.  ^  ^  ^^  ^  Entered  the  district 
school,  and,  I  believe,  acquitted  myself  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  everybody,  my  poor,  sick  sister  especially. 
She  had  taken  great  pains  with  my  education  while  I 
was  at  work  in  the  factory,  though,  as  we  worked 
twelve  hours  a  day,  and  came  home  completely  worn 
out  with  fatigue,  I  was  not  a  very  promising  subject." 
A  little  later :  — "  The  factory  re-opened,  and  I  left 
school  and  returned  to  my  old  employment." 

While  Emily  was  yet  quite  young  she  came  under 
the  almost  exclusive  care  of  her  oldest  sister,  Eavinia. 
The  circumstance  that  led  to  this,  added  to  intense 
sisterly  affection  for  her  as  a  sweet,  promising  child, 
was  very  sad,  but  also  highly  providential.  Eavinia,  a 
young  woman  of  remarkable  natural  endowments,  was 
brought  to  a  bed  of  fatal  illness,  continuing  perhaps 
four  years.  With  strong  resolution  she  maintained  her 
place  as  the  most  responsible  and  serviceable  daughter 
in  the  family,  after  being  confined  to  her  room ;  and 
one  of  her  self-imposed  and  most  enjoyable  trusts 
was  the  guidance  of  little  Emily. 

With  the  hand  of  a  mistress  she  taught  the  tiny 
maiden  to  be  "  mistress  of  dust-brush  and  poker," 
and  she  became  the  pet,  nurse  and  companion  of  the 
invalid.  And  when  "  certain  rhyming  propensities  " 
began  to  appear  she  took  them  in  hand,  selecting 
subjects,  checking  excess,  and  warding  off  laughing 
critics  and  evil  prophets.  She  knew  how  not  to 
crush  a  child,  and  how  to  minister  to  one  that  had 
"  more  ideas  than  language,  and  more  feeling  than 
either." 

"  But  it  was  in  the  matter  of  religious  training  that 


22  KMI1.Y  C.  JtJDSON. 

my  sister  made  me  most  deeply  her  debtor,"  says 
Kmily  in  after  years.  "  As  her  own  rehgious  charac- 
ter developed  and  her  faith  strengthened,  she  set  her- 
self deliberately  and  earnestly  to  the  task  of  enlighten- 
ing my  understanding  and  arousing  my  heart.  She 
may  have  had  her  hours  of  darkness  and  despond- 
ency ;  but  I  knew  nothing  of  them,  and  always  saw  her 
as  a  rejoicing,  triumphant  Christian."  Her  prayers  at 
midnight,  for  which  she  rose  habitually,  made  a  deep 
impression  on  the  "  little  satellite  of  a  sister,"  who 
strove  to  awake  and  to  keep  her  sleepy  eyes  open 
that  she  might  hear  them.  "  She  opened  the  way  to 
Christ  so  simply  and  so  clearly  that  my  baby  concep- 
tions have  been  the  teachers  of  my  riper  years." 

The  still  hand  and  the  silent  voice  continued  a 
formative  power  in  Emily's  life.  The  departed  sister 
seemed  ever  with  her,  a  bright  example  of  womanli- 
ness, and  whom  to  recall  was  to  follow,  as  she  fol- 
lowed Christ,  in  matters  of  the  greatest  moment. 

Emily's  religious  experience  thus  began  earl3\ 
She  states  :  "  The  first  event  of  any  importance  which 
I  remember  is  the  conversion  of  my  sister  Lavinia, 
when  I  was  about  seven  years  of  age.  My  little  cot 
was  in  her  room ;  and  as  she  grew  worse  after  her  bap- 
tism, the  young  members  of  the  church  were  in  the 
habit  of  spending  the  night  with  her,  partly  in  the 
character  of  watchers,  partly  because  of  a  unity  of 
interest  and  feeling.  She  and  her  visitors  spent  the 
greater  part  of  the  night  in  conversation  and  prayer, 
without  any  thought  of  disturbing  so  sound  a  sleeper 
as  I  seemed  to  be.  I  was  a  silent,  sometimes  tearful, 
listener  when  they  talked ;  and  when  they  prayed  I 


A    MEMORIAL.  23 

used  to  kneel  down  in  my  bed,  and,  with  hands 
clasped  and  heart  uplifted,  follow  them  through  to  the 
end.  I  can  not  recall  my  exercises  with  any  degree  of 
distinctness ;  but  I  remember  longing  to  go  to  heaven, 
and  be  with  Christ;  some  moments  of  ecstasy  and 
some  of  deep  depression  on  account  of  my  childish  de- 
linquencies. My  sister  used  often  to  converse  with  me 
on  religious  subjects ;  and  I  remember  on  one  occasion 
her  going  to  the  next  room  and  saying  to  my  mother, 
'  That  child's  talk  is  wonderful !  I  believe  if  there  is  a 
Christian  in  the  world  she  is  one.'  For  a  moment  I 
felt  a  deep  thrill  of  joy,  and  then  I  became  alarmed  lest 
I  should  have  deceived  them.  The  effect  was  to  make 
me  reserved  and  cautious." 

Her  memoranda  date  her  conversion  at  about  this 
time  ;  yet  the  current  of  the  new  life  seemed  to  disap- 
pear beneath  the  sands,  for  the  way  was  desert.  For 
the  most  part  she  was  destitute  of  the  atmosphere  and 
the  attentions  that  such  a  delicate  nature  as  hers  re- 
quires in  order  to  its  blossoming  and  abundant  fruitage. 
The  only  direct  and  effective  influence  noticeable  was 
the  reflective  power  of  her  sister  Lavinia's  mind  as  she 
neared  the  glorified  state.  She  was  fond  of  her,  and 
was  affected  by  her  conversations  and  fineness  of  spirit. 
On  one  occasion,  when  the  carding  machine  broke  and 
she  had  an  afternoon  to  herself,  she  spent  all  her  little 
stock  of  money  in  hiring  a  horse  and  w^agon  to  take 
"  poor  I^avinia  out  driving."  She  says  : — "We  spread  a 
buffalo  robe  on  a  pretty,  dry  knoll,  and  father  carried 
her  to  it  in  his  arms.  I  shall  never  forget  how  happy  she 
was,  nor  how  Kate  and  I  almost  buried  her  in  violets 
and  other  wild  spring  flowers.  It  was  the  last  time 
that  she  ever  went  out." 


24  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

Again  :  This  was  the  day  of  poor  Lavinia's  death  (June 
23,  1829).  They  released  me  from  the  factory  four  days 
on  this  occasion,  and  O,  how  long  they  seemed  to  me  ! 
The  first  day  she  was  in  great  agony,  and  I  crept  as  much 
out  of  the  way  as  I  could,  and  scarcely  moved.  The  next 
day  she  rallied,  and  took  some  notice  of  me ;  but  the  wom- 
en (very  many  neighbors  had  come  in)  appeared  just  as 
busy  and  anxious  as  ever,  and  mother  wept  incessantly. 
Everything  appeared  strange  and  unnatural  about  the 
house,  and  I  thought  it  must  be  unpleasant  for  her.  She 
kissed  me  and  told  me  I  must  be  a  good  girl;  but  her 
voice  sounded  hollow  and  her  lips  were  cold.  I  longed  to 
do  something  for  her,  and  remembering  her  extreme  fond- 
ness for  flowers,  I  went  to  a  neighbor's  and  begged  an 
apron  full  of  roses.  When  I  returned  the  house  was  still 
as  death.  I  entered  her  room  ;  they  were  kneeling  around 
her  bed,  and  no  one  took  any  notice  of  me.  In  a  moment, 
however,  she  beckoned  to  me  with  her  finger,  and  when  I 
put  the  flowers  on  her  bed  she  smiled.  She  tried  again  to 
turn  her  eye  upon  me,  but  it  would  not  obey  her  will. 
She  tried  to  speak,  but  her  lips  gave  no  sound.  She  lay 
quietly  a  few  moments,  then  suddenly  exclaimed,  *  Glory, 
glory !  my  Father !  Jesus ! '  and  never  breathed  again. 
She  was  buried  at  Eaton,  being  a  member  of  the  church 
there. 

lyate  in  the  same  year  the  family  made  another 
change,  on  which  hinged  some  new  developments  in 
Emily's  life.  It  was  a  removal  to  a  farm  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  Morrisville,  the  county  seat.  Here  they  had 
"plenty  of  plain  food,"  but  suffered  greatly  from  cold. 
"The  house  was  large  and  unfinished,"  she  says,  "  and 
the  snow  sometimes  drifted  into  it  in  heaps.  We  were 
unable  to  repair  it,  and  the  owner  was  unwilling. 
Father  was  absent   nearly   all   the   time   distributing 


A   MEMORIAI..  25 

newspapers ;  and  the  severity  of  the  winter  so  afifected 
his  health  that  he  could  do  but  little  when  he  was  at 
home.  Mother,  Harriet  and  I  were  frequently  com- 
pelled to  go  out  into  the  fields  and  dig  broken  wood 
out  of  the  snow,  to  keep  ourselves  from  freezing." 

She  was  now  about  fourteen  years  of  age,  and 
though  she  "  went  to  the  district  school  as  much  as 
she  could,"  circumstances  were  adverse  to  her  devel- 
opment, except  for  the  fact  that  she  was  one  whose 
genius  for  advancement  could  not  easily  be  repressed. 
The  spiritual  side  of  her  life,  not  less  than  the  mental, 
engaged  her  attention  as  opportunity  for  its  improve- 
ment was  presented;  and  now  such  an  opportunity 
was  at  hand.  And  we  can  not  do  better  than  to  intro- 
duce some  extracts  from  her  own  writing,  showing  her 
experience ;  for  while  they  reveal  the  genuineness  of 
her  exercises,  the  peculiarities  of  the  narration  give  to 
it  some  added  relish.     It  was  the  first  of  the  year  1 830. 

There  was  a  revival  of  religion  among  the  Methodists 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood,  and  one  evening,  at  a 
meeting,  those  who  wished  the  prayers  of  Christians  were 
requested  to  rise.  It  was  something  new  to  me,  and  I 
trembled  so  that  I  shook  the  seat,  and  attracted  considera- 
ble attention.  A  girl  near  me  whispered  that  I  had  better 
arise — she  was  sure  she  would  if  she  felt  as  I  did ;  and  a 
class-leader  came  and  took  me  by  the  hand,  so  that  I  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  upon  my  feet.  After  this  T  attended  all 
the  class-meetings,  and  thought  it  a  great  favor  to  get 
talked  with  and  prayed  for. 

A  "  three  days'  meeting  "  was  commenced  by  the  Bap- 
tist church  of  Morris ville  and  we  all  attended.  The  revi- 
val among  the  Methodists  had  previously  prepared  our 
minds,  and  Harriet,  especially,  was  deeply  affected.    This 


26  KMII.Y    C.  JUDSON. 

meeting  was  followed  by  a  similar  one  in  the  Presbjiierian 
church,  not  one  hour  of  which  was  lost  to  Harriet  and  my- 
self. A  great  many  young  persons  were  added  to  both 
churches  ;  among  the  most  joyful  of  whom  was  my  sister 
Harriet.  They  baptized  her,  while  I  looked  on  almost 
broken-hearted.  We  joined  two  weekly  Bible  classes  at 
the  village  (a  mile  distant),  and  attended  all  the  meetings 
we  could  hear  of,  walking  when  father  was  away.  When 
he  was  at  home,  though  ever  so  much  fatigued  and  ill,  he 
was  too  happy  to  see  us  interested  in  religious  things  not 
to  go  with  us.  I  recollect  feeling  myself  very  heart-heavy, 
because  the  revival  had  passed  without  my  being  convert- 
ed. I  grew  mopish  and  absent-minded,  but  still  I  did  not 
relax  my  efforts.  Indeed,  I  believe  my  solemn  little  face 
was  almost  ludicrously  familiar  to  worshipers  of  every  de- 
nomination, for  I  remember  a  Presbyterian  once  saying  to 
me,  as  I  was  leaving  the  chapel,  after  having,  as  usual, 
asked  prayers  :  "  What !  this  little  girl  not  converted  yet ! 
How  do  you  suppose  we  can  waste  any  more  time  in  pray- 
ing for  you  ?  " 

In  the  spring  Emily  commenced  taking  lessons 
in  rhetoric  and  natural  philosophy ;  also  in  English 
composition,  from  a  lady  vi^ho  "  had  read  novels  till  her 
head  was  nearly  turned,"  and,  whsLt  was  much  worse, 
had  imbibed  infidel  sentiments,  and  was  quite  forward 
to  introduce  the  prominent  authorities  to  the  youth 
under  her  instruction.  Emily  was  much  injured  by 
her  sentiments,  and  felt  her  confidence  in  the  Bible 
weakening  and  her  religious  impressions  fading.  This 
woman  "  was  a  great  admirer  of  the  misanthropic  school 
of  poetry ;  Byron,  especially,  she  was  always  repeating, 
and  used  actually  to  rave  over  his  Manfred.  When 
she  mounted  her  stilts  I  always  trembled,"  she  con- 


A   MEMORIAI,.  27 

tinues,  "for  though  fond  of  being  with  her,  I  still  feared 
for  her." 

The  seeming  wisdom  and  aflfection  of  the  person 
made  the  snare  more  alluring  to  one  of  Emily's  taste 
and  talent,  and  she  was  almost  drawn  into  it.  Only  by 
maintaining  her  devotional  habits  did  she  escape.  This 
constancy,  with  faithful  attendance  upon  public  wor- 
ship and  continuance  in  the  Sunday  school  and  Bible 
class,  was  both  an  assurance  of  her  safety  and  an  evi- 
dence that  she  had  actually  found  the  refuge  in  God  and 
loved  it  well.  The  partial  paralysis  produced  by  her 
teacher's  infidelity  was  more  than  counter-balanced  by 
supplies  of  Divine  Grace. 


28  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

III. 

^phetn^va—jioME  and  health. 

So  in  the  Temple  of  the  Ages,  builded 
Out  of  men's  lives,  it  comes  to  every  one 

Some  day  to  find  there  is  no  work  so  noble 
As  that  which  love  hath  done. 

CARI.OTTA  Perry. 

O  happy  earth  !     O  home  so  well  beloved  ! 
What  recompense  have  we,  from  thee  removed  ? 
One  hope  we  have  that  overtops  the  whole — 
The  hope  of  finding  every  vanished  soul 
We  love  and  long  for  daily,  and  for  this 
Gladly  we  turn  from  thee  and  all  thy  bliss, 
Kven  at  thy  loveliest,  when  the  days  are  long, 
And  little  birds  break  out  in  rippling  song. 

Ckwa  Thaxter — "  Compensation.'^ 

AFTER  a  year  on  the  farm  the  Chubbucks  removed 
-  into  the  village  of  Morrisville.  Failure  at  farm- 
ing, though  not  surprising,  affected  domestic  affairs 
quite  seriously,  and  again  turned  Emily  to  servile  labor 
away  from  home.  The  family  took  a  little  old  house 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  place,  which,  she  says,  was  "  the 
poorest  shelter  we  ever  had,  with  only  two  rooms  on 
the  lower  floor,  and  a  loft,  to  which  we  ascended  by 
means  of  a  ladder.  We  were  not  discouraged,  how- 
ever, but  managed  to  make  the  house  a  little  genteel, 
as  well  as  tidy.     Harriet  and  I  used  a  turn-up  bedstead, 


A   MEMORIAL.  29 

surrounded  by  pretty  chintz  curtains,  and  we  made  a 
parlor  and  dining-room  of  the  room  by  day."  And 
thus  having  compelled  grim  Penury  to  yield  something 
agreeable,  the  children  sought  ways  for  earning  pit- 
tances to  keep  up  the  family.  Some  went  to  school, 
but  most  of  them  to  some  manual  employment.  Har- 
riet, who  "  had  a  knack  at  twisting  ribbons  and  fitting 
dresses,"  took  in  sewing;  while  Emily  " got  constant 
employment  of  a  little  Scotch  weaver  and  thread- 
maker,  at  twisting  thread." 

In  a  few  months  a  new  academy  opened  in  the  vil- 
lage and  Emily  became  a  pupil ;  but  she  was  still  held 
for  a  * '  tale ' '  of  work.  "As  soon  as  I  came  home  at  night, ' ' 
she  says,  "  I  used  to  sit  down  to  sew  with  Harriet;  and 
it  was  a  rule  never  to  lay  the  work  aside  until,  accord- 
ing to  our  estimation,  I  had  earned  enough  to  clear  the 
expenses  of  the  day — tuition,  clothing,  food,  etc." 

After  the  first  term  of  school  closed  she  lost  no 
time  in  going  again  into  the  employ  of  the  thread- 
maker.  Here,  too,  fingers  were  required  and  the  mind 
left  free ;  and  there  she  stood,  solitary,  all  day  long, 
turning  a  little  crank,  and  entertaining  herself  with 
whatever  occurred  to  the  mind.  The  religious  ele- 
ment being  uppermost  in  her  being  she  readily  turned 
to  the  sentiments  and  books  of  the  skeptical  teacher  ; 
and  she  felt  that  she  must  have  satisfaction  in  regard 
to  them.  She  puzzled  her  friends  with  arguments  that 
showed  wrong  tendencies  ;  drew  the  "Age  of  Reason  " 
from  the  town  library  and  pored  over  it  secretly,  taking 
notes.  Her  father  discovered  her  notes  and,  pale  and 
trembling,  showed  them  to  her ;  but  she  quieted  his 
mind  as  to  the  consequences. 


30  EMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

Another  year  passes  and  the  family  makes  another 
change,  to  avoid  suffering  in  the  approaching  winter. 
This  time  a  nice  house  was  selected  in  a  pleasant  part 
of  the  village,  with  a  view  to  taking  academy  boarders. 
A  great  number  of  boarders  came,  causing  a  great  deal 
of  work.  Emily  again  went  to  school,  but  she  was 
obliged,  as  before,  to  help  at  home.  She  would  arise  on 
Monday  morning  at  two  o'clock  and  do  the  washing  for 
the  family  and  boarders  before  nine  ;  and  on  Thursday 
evening  would  do  the  ironing.  Saturday,  helped  to  do 
the  baking,  in  the  half-day  in  which  there  was  no 
school.  Took  sewing  of  a  mantua-maker,  to  fill  up  bits 
and  ends  of  time.  Her  class-mates  were  older  then 
herself,  with  one  exception,  and  having  been  free  to 
study  all  their  lives  they  had  an  advantage  which 
Emily  felt  keenly  ;  and  in  order  to  keep  up  with  them 
she  robbed  her  sleeping  hours,  usually  studying  until 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  then  read  French  and 
solved  mathematical  problems  in  her  sleep. 

Very  naturally  her  health  failed,  and  the  question 
arose  as  to  what  should  be  done  with  her.  The  mother 
thought  she  might  make  millinery  a  lucrative  business, 
but  she  revolted.  She  was  willing  to  do  menial  labor, 
temporarily,  in  factory  or  thread-mill,  but  to  devote  her 
life  to  making  bonnets — this  was  something  to  which 
the  ''divinity  within"  would  not  for  an  instant  consent. 
She  was  but  fifteen  years  old,  yet  she  had  reached  a 
point  where  she  must  see  her  calling  and  decide  for 
herself.  The  readiest  vocation  to  one  inclined  to  books 
was  teaching,  and  this,  then  as  ever,  was  a  portal  to 
original  literary  pursuits. 

But  here  was  the  old  obstacle — pinching  want  at 


A   MEMORIAI,.  31 

home,  requiring  her  assistance ;  with  a  felt  need  of  bet- 
ter qualification  for  teaching  and  inability  to  secure  it. 
Boarders  had  not  proved  profitable ;  her  father  had  lost 
a  mail-route  by  being  underbid,  and  her  health  seemed 
to  be  broken.  Another  year  in  school  might  kill  her, 
and  she  must  think  of  something  else.  Her  mother 
spoke  for  a  position  for  her  at  sewing,  and  as  she  was 
expert  with  a  needle  she  was  able  to  make  good  terms. 
But  there  was  a  revolt  in  her  inmost  being  at  the 
thought,  not  of  working  with  her  hands  but  of  being 
severed  from  intellectual  relations  and  pursuits.  She 
"  cried  all  night." 

Before  resuming  the  thread  of  her  religious  experi- 
ence, the  reader  must  see  her  in  the  interesting  role  of 
teacher — "school  ma'am."  It  will  thus  be  learned 
what  sort  of  "stuff"  she  was  made  of,  and  how  to 
account,  in  part,  for  the  brilliant  success  she  achieved. 

It  was  not  a  trifling  matter  half  a  century  ago  for 
a  sensitive  girl  of  fifteen  to  undertake  the  work  of 
teaching,  particularly  in  the  country.  It  was  trying 
to  determine  upon  this  occupation  without  qualified 
friends  to  advise,  and  more  so  to  hold  it  successfully 
with  few  or  none  to  sympathize.  The  people  lived  in 
a  rude  way,  and  the  teacher  could  not  choose  a  home 
from  among  them,  but  must  board  with  all,  subject  to 
weekly  change  and  inequality  of  distances  from  her 
work.  There  were  scarcely  any  entertainments  in 
these  homes,  either  intellectual  or  social,  and  in  many 
cases  she  must  be  completely  engulfed  in  family  af- 
fairs, with  no  enjoyment  except  such  as  comes  from 
hearing  stories  of  pioneer  life,  at  evening  time,  with 
the  plucking  of  a  few  roses  in  the  morning  and  walking 


32  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

back  to  school.  The  school-houses  were  constructed 
as  cheaply  as  possible,  with  no  provision  for  persons 
of  taste,  if,  indeed,  there  was  any  thought  for  health — 
for  the  lungs  and  spines  of  small  or  great.  The  loca- 
tion must  be  central,  even  if  in  the  middle  of  a  farm, 
and  such  a  thing  as  grading,  planting  trees,  or  even 
making  doorsteps  was  scarcely  contemplated. 

Emily  Chubbuck  was  determined  to  earn  the  means 
with  which  to  defray  at  least  her  share  of  the  family's 
expenses,  and  to  do  so  by  some  kind  of  intellectual 
effort.  She  had  taken  fire  from  Lavinia's  ambitious 
nature.  It  would  be  a  hardship  at  best,  and  the  school 
was  the  right  arena,  as  she  believed,  for  one  of  her 
years  and  limited  qualifications.  People  had  not,  as 
yet,  however,  ceased  to  estimate  fitness  to  "  keep 
school"  as  very  largely  physical;  because  the  rustics 
were  to  be  ''  kept "  as  well  as  taught.  But,  not  to  an- 
ticipate, the  following  items  from  her  own  inimitable 
account  best  depict  her  initiation  into  her  new  vocation, 
and  some  of  her  subsequent  experiences.  Beginning 
April  6,  1832,  when  she  was  less  than  fifteen,  her  diary 
states : 

'*  Went  to  Mr.  B.,  my  academy  teacher,  and,  after 
some  awkward  hesitation,  ventured  to  ask  if  he  thought 
me  capable  of  teaching  school.  '  Yes,'  said  he,  *  but 
you  are  not  half  big  enough.'  He,  however,  gave  me 
a  recommendation  and  promised  to  keep  the  matter 
secret. 

*  *  *  ''Told  mother  I  wanted  to  make  the 
F — 's  a  visit,  which  she  was  pleased  to  hear,  as  they 
lived  on  a  farm,  and  she  thought  a  little  change  would 
do  me  good. 


A    MKMORIx\L.  33 

*  *  *  ''  Father  carried  me  to  the  F— 's  before 
breakfast ;  a  drive  of  about  two  miles.  As  soon  as  he 
had  left  me  I  inquired  if  their  school  was  engaged.  It 
was  ;  but  the  J.  district  had  not  yet  obtained  a  teacher, 
they  thought.  I  took  a  short  cut  across  the  lots,  and 
soon  stood  trembling  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  J.  He 
was  a  raw-boned,  red-haired,  sharp-looking  man,  in 
cowhide  shoes  and  red  flannel  shirt.  '  Is  your  school 
engaged? '  I  timidly  inquired.  He  turned  his  keen,  gray 
eye  upon  me,  measuring  me  deliberately  from  head  to 
foot,  while  I  stood  as  tall  as  possible.  I  saw  at  once 
that  it  was  not  engaged,  and  that  I  stood  a  very  poor 
chance  of  getting  it.  He  asked  several  questions ; 
whistled  when  I  told  him  my  age  ;  said  the  school 
was  a  very  difficult  one,  and  finally  promised  to  con- 
sult the  other  trustees  and  let  me  know  in  a  week  or 
two.  I  saw  what  it  all  meant,  and  went  awa}^  morti- 
fied and  heavy-hearted.  As  soon  as  I  gained  the 
woods  I  sat  down  and  sobbed  outright.  This  re- 
lieved me,  and  after  a  little  while  I  stood  upon  my  feet 
again,  with  dry  eyes  and  a  tolerably  courageous  heart. 
I  went  back,  though  with  great  shamefacedness,  to 
Mr.  J.,  and  inquired  the  way  across  the  woods  to  Mr. 
F.'s,  which  I  reached  soon  after  sunset.  Here  I  found 
my  old  friend,  C.  F.  (the  skeptical  teacher),  and  others 
of  the  family,  very  glad  to  welcome  me  ;  and  without 
stating  my  errand  I  went  to  bed,  too  tired  and  anx- 
ious to  be  companionable. 

>H  >i<  >f<  u  ^q\^  ^  ^  jjjy  errand,  and  she  at  once 
volunteered  to  go  to  the  trustees  with  me  and  do 
what  she  could  in  my  behalf.  When  we  arrived  at 
Mr.  D.'s  she   spoke  of  the   Morrisville   Academ}^  in- 


34  KMII^Y   C.  JUDSON. 

quired   if  they    knew    the   principal,  Mr.  B ,  and 

then  presented  my  recommendation,  which  I  had  not 
ventured  to  show  the  day  before.  Mr.  D.  was  pleased  ; 
said  he  had  heard  of  me,  and  did  not  know  of  any  one 
whom  he  should  like  so  well  for  a  teacher.  He  hoped 
his  colleagues  had  engaged  no  one,  but  did  not  know, 
as  Mr.  B.  was  the  acting  trustee.  To  Mr.  B.'s  we 
went,  a  frank,  happy-looking  young  farmer,  with  a 
troop  of  children  about  him,  and  made  known  our 
errand.  '  Why,  the  scholars  will  be  bigger  than  their 
teacher,'  was  his  first  remark.  'Here,  An't,  stand  up 
by  the  school-ma'am  and  see  which  is  the  tallest; 
An't  is  the  blackest,  at  any  rate,'  he  added,  laughing. 
He  would  not  make  any  definite  engagement  with  me, 
but  said  I  stood  as  fair  a  chance  as  anybody,  and  he 
would  come  to  the  village  next  week  and  settle  the 
matter.  '  You  have  got  it,'  said  C.  as  soon  as  we  were 
out  of  the  house.  I  was  not  so  sanguine,  but  I  was 
too  far  from  home  to  think  of  going  further,  and  so  I 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait. 

^^  *  *  "  I^eft  the  F.'s,  and  without  seeing  the 
F — 's  again,  walked  home,  a  distance  of  three  miles 
and  a  half 

*  *  *  "  Mr.  B.  made  his  appearance,  and  an- 
nounced to  mother  (much  to  her  surprise  and  a  little 
to  her  embarrassment)  that  he  had  come  to  engage  her 
daughter  to  teach  school.  We  were  told  that  they 
never  paid  over  six  shillings  (seventy-five  cents)  a 
week,  besides  boarding;  and  though  I  could  earn  as 
much  with  the  milliner,  and  far  more  at  twisting 
thread,  we  were  all  very  happy  in  the  arrangement. 
Mother  had  intended  putting  me  with  Miss  B.  only  for 


A   MEMORIAL.  35 

want  of  something  better,  and  now  she  was  highly 
pleased,  particularly  with  the  ability  I  had  shown  to 
help  myself. 

*  *  *  "  On  the  first  Monday  in  May  father  took 
me  in  his  wagon  to  Nelson  Corners.  The  school- 
house  was  a  little  brown  building  on  the  corner,  all 
newly  cleaned  and  in  good  repair.  About  twenty 
children  came,  some  clean,  some  pretty,  some  ugly,  and 
all  shy  and  noisy.  I  got  through  the  day  tolerably 
well,  and  after  school  went  to  Mr.  B.'s.  I  was  to 
"  board  round,"  and  so  took  my  first  week  with  the 
leading  trustee. 

"  The  first  evening  at  Mr.  B.'s  passed  off  tolerably 
well ;  but  I  was  very  timid  and  not  very  fond  of  visit- 
ing, and  I  had  neglected  to  provide  myself  with  either 
work  or  books.  The  B.'s  were  not  a  reading  people ; 
their  whole  library  comprised  only  a  Bible  and  a  Meth- 
odist hymn-book,  and  there  was  not  a  newspaper  about 
the  house.  I  had  been  trained  in  habits  of  the  sever- 
est industry,  and  before  the  end  of  the  week  was  com- 
pletely miserable.  I  had  no  congenial  society,  nothing 
to  do,  and  I  had  intended,  when  I  left  home,  to  be  ab- 
sent six  weeks.  I  was  downright  homesick,  and  after 
the  third  day  could  neither  eat  nor  sleep.  On  Satur- 
day I  closed  my  school  at  noon,  and,  without  taking 
leave  of  the  B.'s,  hurried  away  over  the  hills  to  Morris- 
ville.  I  think  there  was  no  happier  being  on  earth 
than  I  when  I  bounded  into  the  old  dining-room ;  and 
I  wept  and  laughed  together  all  the  evening.  On 
Monday  morning  father  carried  me  back  in  his  wagon, 
and  after  that  he  came  for  me  regularly  every  Satur- 
day night,  and  left  me  at  the  school-house  Monday 
morning." 


36  E^MILY   C.  JUDSON. 

After  the  usual  term  of  three  months  the  school 
closed,  and  Emily  returned  home,  feeling  that  though 
she  had  filled  her  engagement  creditably,  she  had  been 
much  less  industrious  than  in  former  periods;  mean- 
ing, doubtless,  that  not  to  hazard  health  and  life  in  a 
determined  war  with  want  was  to  be  comparatively 
idle.  Her  lack  of  advantages  out  of  school  hours  was, 
perhaps,  the  cause  of  some  inactivity.  Yet  there  were 
other  elements  in  her  being  than  the  intellectual,  and 
she  had  other  thoughts  than  those  on  pedagogy. 

During  the  year  just  reviewed  she  had  a  constant 
experience  with  religion  and  a  view  of  death,  and  was 
much  affected  thereby.  From  the  time  of  the  revivals 
in  Morrisville  she  had  been  under  the  discipline  of  the 
Spirit  and  was  a  pliant  subject. 

Prominent  among  the  influences  that  had  moulded 
the  girl-life  of  Emily  were  the  conversion  and  death  of 
the  two  sisters  already  mentioned,  and  some  circum- 
stances related  thereto.  The  Chubbuck  home,  so  low- 
ly, had  ever  been  "  the  resort  of  very  pious  people,  and 
a  favorite  home  for  Hamilton  students";  and  it  was 
more  so  after  the  daughters  became  Christians.  Emily 
was  permanently  impressed  by  several,  whose  society 
was  very  improving.  "We  were,"  she  says,  "also  well 
supplied  with  choice  books,  a  luxury  which,  even 
in  our  deepest  poverty,  we  never  denied  ourselves ; 
for  we  had  been  taught  from  our  cradles  to  consider 
knowledge,  next  after  religion,  the  most  desirable 
thing,  and  were  never  allowed  to  associate  with  igno- 
rant and  vulgar  children." 

Her  sisters  charmed  her  by  their  personal  and 
Christian  traits,  and  she  had  no  inclination  to  look 


A    MKMORIAL.  37 

elsewhere  for  good  society.  The  bond  of  sympathy  in 
her  humble  home  was  of  the  purest  and  strongest  type  ; 
rendered  so  by  the  precious  power  of  the  Christian  re- 
ligion. Her  sister  Harriet,  six  years  her  senior,  "was 
very  beautiful  in  person  and  fascinating  in  manners, 
and  for  a  time  was  the  pride  of  the  family.  After  her 
conversion,  less  than  a  year  previous  to  her  death,  her 
natural  gayety  was  to  a  great  extent  subdued ;  and  so 
beloved  had  she  rendered  herself  that  her  death,  which 
was  sudden,  threw  a  gloom  over  the  whole  communi- 
ty, and  the  funeral  services  were  disturbed  by  sob- 
bings from  different  parts  of  the  house." 

This  sister  was  greatly  exercised  in  reference  to  the 
subject  of  missions  and  consecrated  herself  solemnly  to 
this  cause — "  had  made  a  vow  which  nothing  but  death 
could  break."  This  fact  she  had  in  strict  confidence 
told  to  Emily,  and  it  must  have  greatly  influenced  her 
mind.  And  at  about  the  same  time,  while  splicing 
rolls  in  the  factory,  she  had  received  an  impulse  from 
another  source,  described  by  herself  as  follows  : 

One  day  I  took  up  a  little,  ding}^  coarse  newspaper — 
the  Baptist  Register  in  its  infancy — and  my  eye  fell  on  the 
words :  "  Little  Maria  lies  by  the  side  of  her  fond  mother." 
I  had  read  about  the  missionaries,  and  my  sister  had  told 
me  respecting  them ;  I  knew,  therefore,  at  once,  that  the 
letter  was  from  Mr.  Judson,  and  that  his  little  daughter 
was  dead.  How  I  pitied  his  loneliness !  And  then  a  new 
train  of  thought  sprung  up,  and  my  mind  expanded  to  a 
new  kind  of  glorj^  "  No,"  thought  I,  "  though  the  Burmans 
should  kill  him,  I  will  not  pity  him  ;  and  I — yes,  I  will  be 
a  missionary."  After  this  I  had  my  romantic  dreams  of 
mission  life ;  but  they  were  of  a  different  cast — of  suffering 


38  EMII^Y   C.  JUDSON. 

and  toil  and  pain  ;  and  though  they,  like  the  others,  ended 
in  death,  somehow  death  in  such  an  employment  came 
pleasantly.  I  read  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and  thought 
of  the  golden  city ;  then  I  read  the  Bible  more,  and  novels 
less. 

Years  after  the  above  occurrence  she  said  to  an  in- 
timate friend :  "  I  have  felt  ever  since  I  read  the  mem- 
oir of  Ann  H.  Judson,  when  I  was  a  small  child, 
that  I  must  become  a  missionary.  I  fear  it  is  but  a 
childish  fancy,  and  am  making  every  effort  to  banish  it 
from  my  mind;  yet  the  more  I  seek  to  divert  my 
thoughts  from  it,  the  more  unhappy  I  am."  Is  there 
the  least  unnaturalness  in  this  experience? — anything 
in  the  mode  of  receiving  a  missionary  conviction  that 
has  not  been  common  to  those  who  have  laid  them- 
selves on  the  altar  of  missions  ?  The  fall  of  a  soldier 
on  the  field  of  miSvSions  has  acted  quickly  and  power- 
fully, ofttimes,  on  the  mind  of  such  as  were  inquiring, 
"  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?  "  and  more  than 
once  been  the  immediate  means  of  decision  in  favor 
of  the  foreign  work.  The  very  danger  and  suffer- 
ings experienced  have  kindled  sympathy  and  caused 
recruits  to  fill  the  ranks.  Even  the  sentiment  of  ro- 
mance, in  such  as  have  at  first  been  influenced  by  it, 
has  given  way  to  a  healthful  spirit  of  obligation  and 
of  consecration,  instead  of  being  an  obstacle  to  it. 
Awakening  in  any  manner  brings  inquiry,  and  inquiry 
leads  to  impressions  of  duty. 

That  Emily  was  not  idly  dreaming,  and  that  she 
had  views  of  missionary  work  that  v/ere  far  from  be- 
ing visionary,  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  she  early 
began  to  qualify  herself  for  it,  and  without  guide  or  in- 


A   MEMORIAI,.  39 

structor.  While  standing  alone  in  the  thread-maker's 
house,  turning  a  little  crank,  she  improved  the  soli- 
tude and  relieved  the  dull  monotony  by  reflecting 
upon  the  books  she  had  been  taught  by  the  infidel 
teacher  to  read.  "If  I  was  to  be  a  missionary,"  she  re- 
flected, "  which  vocation  I  had  never  lost  sight  of,  I 
must  understand  how  to  refute  all  those  infidel  argu- 
ments, and  I  now  set  about  it  with  great  earnestness." 
While  it  was  somewhat  presumptuous  for  such  a  young 
Christian,  one  who  had  not  yet  sought  the  support  of 
the  church  by  uniting  with  it,  to  enter  the  atmosphere 
of  infidelity  and  steep  her  untrained  mind  in  the  argu- 
ments of  such  lights  as  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and  others, 
she,  nevertheless,  showed  her  sense  of  the  need  of 
proper  preparation  for  strife  with  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness. Being  apt  and  quick  to  learn,  it  is  not  improb- 
able that  she  made  too  much  headway  to  justify  the 
reader  in  smiling  at  her  youthful  venture. 

A  year  later,  after  her  first  school  was  closed,  she 
had  attained  a  girlish  popularity  which  proved  some- 
what detrimental  to  her  piety.  She  was  not  consci- 
entious in  the  discharge  of  her  religious  duties,  and  be- 
gan to  like  attention  and  praise.  She  had  been  under 
the  influence  of  the  lady  teacher  mentioned,  and  was 
intimate  with  some  families  of  gay  young  people.  Be- 
sides, she  gives  no  intimation  of  having  enjoyed  min- 
isterial or  other  religious  watchcare  and  counsel. 

Still  later  by  a  few  months  she  was  again  pursuing 
her  studies  in  the  Academy,  though,  on  account  of  her 
attention  to  her  personal  appearance,  she  did  not  ad- 
vance as  rapidly  as  before.  A  dancing  epidemic  broke 
out,  and  Emily  easily  became  one  of  its  victims.    Then 


40  KMILY    C.  JUDSON. 

there  followed  a  prospect  of  dissension  and  division 
in  the  family,  on  account  of  her  determination  to  learn 
to  dance.  But  when  she  saw  that  the  matter  was  like- 
ly to  prove  a  serious  grievance  to  her  parents  she 
dropped  it,  and  forever. 

She  was  now  in  her  sixteenth  year.  Independence 
of  mind  had  developed  quite  rapidly,  and  she  even 
thought,  as  she  had  her  own  fortune  to  make,  that  she 
ought  to  obtain  a  boarding-place  and  follow  her  own 
plans  ;  but  her  parents  persuaded  her  to  desist  from 
doing  "  so  wild  a  thing."  In  her  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  years  she  taught  in  Morrisville  and  vSmith- 
field.  And  meantime  there  was  a  resumption  of  her 
religious  thoughts  and  a  renewal  of  early  impressions, 
with  most  important  results.  Her  hope  now  became 
a  joyful  one,  and  a  purpose  was  formed  in  her  heart  to 
consecrate  her  life  to  the  service  of  the  Lord. 


A   MEMORIAI,.  41 

IV. 

Il^nr  'S^xi^na— SCHOOLING,  '' trippings:' 

Too  much  of  joy  is  sorrowful, 

So  cares  must  needs  abound ; 
The  vine  that  bears  too  many  flowers 

Will  trail  upon  the  ground. 

A1.1CE;  Carey. 

O  feeble,  mighty  human  hand ! 

O  fragile,  dauntless  human  heart  1 
The  universe  holds  nothing  planned 

With  such  sublime,  transcendent  art. 

HeIvEn  Hunt  Jackson. 

TN  the  stimmer  of  1834,  her  seventeenth  y^ax,  she  of- 
-^  fered  herself  to  the  Baptist  church  at  Morrisville 
and  was  accepted.  Rev.  William  Dean,  D.  D.,  a  native 
of  that  place  and  familiar  with  the  youth  of  the  com- 
munity, as  a  school-teacher,  was  at  this  time  serving 
the  church  and  awaiting  his  departure  as  missionary 
to  China.  He  says  :  "  Before  leaving  the  country  I 
had  occasion  to  baptize  some  dozen  or  fifteen  young 
persons  in  my  native  town,  and  Emily  Chubbuck  was 
among  the  number.  In  conversation,  during  her  se- 
rious impressions,  she  was  not  communicative,  but  in 
answer  to  questions  gave  clear  views  of  sin  and  her 
sole  trust  in  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  Christ  for  salva- 
tion. In  relating  her  experience  before  the  church 
she  discovered  her  accustomed  coy  manner,  but  gave 


42  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

satisfactory  proof  that  she  had  been  renewed  by  the 
spirit  of  God." 

And  now  that  she  was  fully  the  lyord's,  her  sense 
of  duty  to  His  cause  grew  intense.  She  became  sensi- 
tively alive  to  the  condition  of  the  world  He  came  to 
redeem.  In  her  tenth  year  she  had  "  romantic  dreams 
of  mission  life,"  but  these  had  disappeared  like  the 
baseless  fabric  of  a  vision  and  .she  now  stood  on  a  foot- 
ing of  loyalty  to  Jesus  Christ.  The  feeling  of  desti- 
nation to  be  a  missionary  had  changed  from  fancy  to 
conviction,  yet  at  no  time  had  it  left  her. 

In  the  years  immediately  following,  her  literary  as- 
pirations were  developing  and  coming  into  notice. 
She  had  formed  the  purpose,  partly  from  motives  of 
necessity,  to  earn  the  means  for  the  comfort  of  her 
parents  and  the  education  of  the  younger  children, 
and  had  planned  the  method — the  use  of  her  pen. 
Mark,  then,  the  genuineness  of  the  missionary  con- 
viction, which  abode  with  her  while  the  desire  to  re- 
alize her  plans  was  struggling  for  supremacy  and  when 
the  incentives  to  a  missionary  career  had  few  advo- 
cates. For  the  most  part  her  conflicting  emotions 
were  hidden  from  public  view.  Yet  "she  never  heard 
a  sermon  preached,  or  opened  her  Bible  to  read,  with- 
out feeling  condemned,  conscious  that  her  Savior's 
requirements  were  in  direct  antagonism  to  her  cher- 
ished purposes." 

When  about  twenty  years  of  age  her  feelings  be- 
came so  strong  as  to  require  relief — the  relief  that 
comes  by  means  of  free  communication  with  an- 
other on  the  subject.  She  sought  the  leading  min- 
ister of  the  vicinity,  one  in  whom  she  could  confide 


A   MEMORIAL.  43 

as  a  friend,  and  whose  judgment  she  had  the  high- 
est reason  to  regard — the  Rev.  Nathaniel  Kendrick,  D. 
D.,  pastor  in  Eaton  and  theological  professor  at  Hamil- 
ton. She  could  not  go  to  him  in  person,  so  sensitive 
and  difl&dent  was  she,  and  she  addressed  him  by  letter. 
The  reply  was  characteristic  of  the  times,  when  the 
way  was  dark,  and  of  a  sage  divine  looking  from  his 
retreat  upon  a  delicate  young  w^oman  who  proposed 
to  go  into  the  mazes  of  pagan  darkness  to  teach  the 
Gospel.  It  was  a  recommendation  to  await  the  open- 
ings of  Providence ;  a  kind  of  advice  that  was  even 
more  convenient  and  plausible  then  than  the  same  is 
now,  but  which  generally  serves  in  place  of  an  adverse 
opinion. 

Such  advice,  coming  from  a  source  that  com- 
manded her  highest  respect,  had  the  effect  it  was  cal- 
culated to  have ;  it  quieted  her  feelings  for  the  time, 
yet  without  abating  her  conviction  or  desires  as  to  the 
missionary  vv^ork.  It  enabled  her  to  feel  justified  in 
following  the  course  upon  which  she  had  entered — to 
pursue  the  calling  of  a  teacher  and  to  try  her  hand  at 
authorship  ;  and  thus,  if  possible,  to  provide  in  part  for 
the  support  of  the  family.  Her  heart  was  specially  set 
upon  the  education  of  the  younger  children  and  the 
purchase  of  a  home  for  her  parents. 

That  one  in  a  family  embracing  two  brothers  older 
than  she  and  parents  in  good  health,  should  take  upon 
herself  such  responsibility  is  evidence  of  want  of  confi- 
dence in  their  management  or  capacity.  It  also  shows 
a  full  sense  of  the  situation,  beyond  her  years,  wnth  a 
very  fine  filial  and  sisterly  affection.  It  does  more : 
it  proves  that  there  were  in  her  composition  the  ele- 


44  KMII,Y   C.  JUDSON. 

ments  that  heroines  are  made  of,  and  that  God  had 
raised  her  up  for  an  important  occasion.  Holding  her 
back  from  another  cherished  purpose,  for  the  time  be- 
ing, enabled  her  to  show  that  there  are  various  spheres 
for  heroines,  and  that  fidelity  in  one  is  the  best  evi- 
dence of  fitness  for  another  and  higher. 

A  still  further  lesson  derived  from  the  trying  or- 
deal of  this  time  is  that  of  the  possibiHty  of  becoming 
equal  to  emergencies,  rising  superior  to  circumstances 
and  doing  something  noble  in  life.  That  the  youngest 
of  the  children  (save  one)  should  undertake  to  meet, 
in  large  part,  the  expenses  of  a  poor  family,  and  she  in 
such  delicate  health  much  of  the  time  as  to  compel  oc- 
casional relinquishment  of  her  work,  is  something  in 
the  line  of  energy  for  American  youth  to  consider. 
And  when  is  added  to  this  heavy  task  the  project  of 
cultivating  her  gifts  in  a  special  way,  and  of  making 
the  avails  of  such  culture  meet  the  demands  for  food 
and  shelter,  the  heroine  stands  forth  an  object  of  admi- 
ration. 

Kmily  had  already  passed  from  girlhood  to  young 
womanhood,  having  reached  her  eighteenth  year. 
Two  things  had  become  firmly  impressed  on  her  mind : 
that  she  must  work  for  "  dear  life,"  her  own  and  her 
parents'  living,  and  that  teaching  was  the  form  of 
labor  to  be  permanently  adopted.  She  had  chosen 
this  calling  as  preferable  to  an}^  other  except  that  of  a 
missionary,  and  she  could  pursue  it  and  still  "  wait  for 
the  openings  of  Providence."  Her  choice  and  her  des- 
tiny seem  to  have  been  in  harmony,  and  she  faced  the 
future  with  both  a  serious  and  a  satisfied  mind. 

She  taught  in  Smithfield,  an  adjoining  town  on  the 


A   MEMORIAL.  45 

north,  in  a  private  family,  where  her  first  school  was 
located,  and  also  in  Morrisville ;  all  the  while  being  in 
feeble  health.  As  to  experiences  immediatel}^  subse- 
quent, Dr.  A.  C.  Kendrick,  in  the  charming  "Life  and 
Letters  of  Emily  C.  Judson."  remarks: 

During  the  summer  of  1837  Emily  had  charge  of  a 
school  in  Brookfield,  where  she  presided  over  about  an 
hundred  pupils.  Repairing  thence  almost  immediately  to 
Syracuse,  she  taught  in  this  place  until  the  following  April. 
There  seems  to  have  been  need  of  her  utmost  exertions. 
"  Many  family  troubles  during  this  winter  " — thus  runs  her 
brief  record—"  failure  in  stage-coach  business,  the  family 
removed  to  Hamilton,  but  returned  in  the  spring ;  home 
lost,  horses,  coaches,  etc.,  seized  and  sold  at  auction."  Such 
emergencies  proved  the  genuine  gold  in  Emily's  character. 
When  all  seemed  crashing  round  her  she  stood  and  strug- 
gled with  unabated  courage,  cheered  the  desponding  spirits 
of  her  parents,  aided  with  hand  and  counsel  at  home  when 
aid  was  possible,  and  bj^  her  constant  labors  in  school-teach- 
ing did  all  in  her  power  to  relieve  the  heav}-  burdens  of 
the  family.  Her  self-sacrificing  generosit}^  overlooked  en- 
tirely her  individual  comfort.  Her  unrelaxed  effort  was 
expended  upon  those  to  whom  she  owed  her  life,  and  whose 
failing  health  and  partially  broken  spirit  caused  them  to 
lean  largely  upon  her.  Meantime  her  acknowledged  abili- 
ty as  a  teacher  was  securing  an  increased  demand  for  her 
services  in  that  calling. 

There  was  no  discharge  from  the  war  in  which  she 
had  enlisted,  and  the  satisfaction  derived  from  the  no- 
bility of  the  cause  in  which  her  heroic  struggles  were 
put  forth  repaid  her  and  caused  her  to  love  the  serv- 
ice. Honor  for  her  parents  was  loyalty  to  the  King; 
and  the  more  darkly  the  night  set  in  about  them,  the 


46  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

more  searchingly  did  her  faithful  arms  reach  for  them. 
Their  fate  was  met  by  her  free-will  tribute  of  sacrifice, 
in  a  most  marvelous  union  of  the  parents'  trust  with 
the  daughter  s  love.  Experience  in  life  usually  con- 
tinues about  as  it  sets  in ;  and  the  keen  foresight  of 
Kmily  Chubbuck  settled  down  in  this  conviction. 
She  girded  herself  for  a  conflict  with  distress  which 
she  knew  that  no  other  member  of  the  family  could 
so  successfully  wage.  And,  being  slender  and  frail  in 
body,  she  met  the  responsibility  by  the  force  of  mind. 

It  was  her  aim  to  combine  business  and  culture. 
Teaching  must  be  continued  for  the  sake  of  the  pay, 
though  the  maximum  price  was  but  "  three  dollars  per 
week  and  board."  Then  her  mental  life  must  be  en- 
larged ;  a  necessity  to  her  as  teacher,  and  as  an  aspir- 
ant for  the  field  of  letters.  She  took  the  public  school 
at  Hamilton,  and  while  there  occupied  her  evenings  in 
studying  Greek,  under  a  student  from  the  Theological 
Seminary.  She  next  opened  a  school  at  Morrisville, 
and  there  took  private  lessons  in  mathematics ;  a  sci- 
ence in  which  she  seemed  expert  when  quite  young. 

Along  with  this  work  her  fancy  played,  or  labored 
in  disguise.  Her  mind,  while  practical,  was  also  imag- 
inative, and  it  would,  therefore,  work  with  books  or 
without  them,  and  on  almost  any  occasion  or  any- 
where. Her  moods  seem  never  to  have  repressed  her 
buoyant  activity,  nor  weariness  in  school  duties  to 
have  overcome  the  impulse  to  originate  something  of 
a  literary  character.  Her  early  development  embraced 
the  talent  for  writing.  Without  guide  or  sympathizer 
she  began  to  produce  in  prose  and  verse,  and,  like  all 
young  writers,  sought  a  medium  in  the  village  paper ; 


A    MKMORIAI,.  47 

an  accommodating  medium  wherever  found,  and  pecul- 
iarly accessible  to  home  talent.  The  sensitive  twinges 
of  the  "beginner,"  and  the  pliant  nature  of  the  mag- 
nate of  the  types,  combined  to  form  a  tender  chapter 
in  village  life  in  Emily's  day. 

She  was  now  in  her  twenty-third  year,  and  it  could 
but  be  expected  that  her  trials  would  show  their  natu- 
ral eifects  and  Time  its  inevitable  wear,  for  the  former 
began  early  and  the  latter  does  no  relenting.  She 
wrote  a  friend  at  this  time :  "  The  world  has  given  me 
some  heavy  brushes ;  disappointment  has  cast  a  shad- 
ow over  my  path ;  expectation  has  been  often  marred 
and  hope  withered ;  the  trials  of  life  have  distilled  their 
bitterness ;  care  has  spread  out  its  perplexities.  *  * 
Emily  is  chaiigedr  At  the  same  time  she  adds: 
"All  this  has  served  to  nerve  up  my  spirits  to 
greater  strength,  and  add  iron  to  my  nature."  Neces- 
sity for  a  resolute  bearing  prevented  the  heart  giving 
way,  even  in  the  most  trying  moments.  She  felt 
"obliged  to  wear  a  smile  to  cheer  her  mother  and 
sister." 

Miss  Chubbuck  returns  to  Prattsville,  where,  as  lit- 
tle Emily  of  eleven  summers,  already  beclouded,  she 
had  spliced  rolls,  with  "  aching  feet  and  a  very  sad 
heart."  She  takes  a  school  there.  As  showing  her 
clear  perception  of  the  situation  and  the  conscious  dis- 
agreement of  her  character  with  that  of  the  scholars, 
she  wrote  the  above  friend  :  "  Behold  me,  then,  at  the 
head  of  a  little  regiment  of  wild  cats.  Oh,  don't  men- 
tion it,  don't!  I  am  as  sick  of  my  bargain  as — (par- 
don the  comparison,  but  it  will  out) — any  Benedict  in 
Christendom.     I   am  duly  constituted  sovereign  of  a 


48  EMILY    C.  JUDSON. 

company  of  fifty  wild  horses,  '  which  may  not  be 
tamed.'  Oh,  Maria,  Maria,  pity  me  !  But  the  half  has 
not  yet  been  told  you."  Here  is  the  heroine  again, 
at  the  head  of  her  "regiment,"  fighting  for  the  preser- 
vation of  a  humble  hearth  and  for  daily  bread. 

This  school  was  almost  ungovernable.  The  former 
teacher  had  been  dismissed — an  experienced  one,  and 
a  married  man — and  it  seemed  to  her  to  be  well-nigh 
hopeless  to  expect  a  reformation  in  it.  She  accord- 
ingly broke  down,  after  some  three  months,  and  re- 
mained unoccupied  for  about  six  months,  when  a  way 
opened  to  her  most  auspiciously.  Hers  was  a  case, 
one  of  a  larger  number  in  this  dark  world  than  the 
average  person  discovers,  in  w^hich  merit  meets  its 
recognition  in  an  unexpected  time  and  manner.  The 
patient  performance  of  dut}^  fidelity  in  the  "few 
things,"  was  the  straight  road  to  promotion,  as  it  now 
proved. 

Miss  Chubbuck  had  now  reached  the  time  and  oc- 
casion for  a  change  of  scene.  The  new  thread  be- 
longed to  the  web  of  her  m^^sterious  Hfe,  3^et  she  had 
not  discovered  it.  As  it  often  occurs,  it  was  left  to 
another  to  point  it  out.  Her  genius  could  not  be  hid 
from  the  discerning,  and  such  an  one  was  a  young 
woman  of  her  own  village  who  was  securing  an  educa- 
tion at  the  Utica  Female  Seminary,  a  noted  institution 
of  its  time.  This  friend  had  spoken  of  the  position 
and  promise  of  her  associate  to  the  principal  of  the 
school  and  secured  her  sympathy. 

In  keeping  with  a  method  adopted  sometimes,  and 
to  a  limited  extent,  Miss  Chubbuck  was  admitted  to 
the  full  privileges  of  the  school,  under  agreement  to 


A    MKMORIAI,.  49 

pay  when  she  should  have  completed  her  course  and 
obtained  the  means  by  teaching.  This  was  an  incal- 
culable advantage  to  her,  and,  after  such  serious  strug- 
gles, was  fully  appreciated.  A  Christian  family,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Sheldon  and  daughters,  were  in  charge  of  the 
several  departments,  and  they  at  once  took  a  decided 
interest  in  their  brilliant  pupil,  while  the  daughters 
formed  an  ardent  attachment  for  her,  which  continued 
through  life. 

With  this  special  improvement  in  her  opportunities 
there  still  remained  the  inexorable  realities  beneath 
the  roof-tree  of  her  real  home,  thirty  miles  away.  The 
members  of  the  family  became  doubly  dear  to  her 
through  her  anxiety  and  efforts  on  their  behalf.  Her 
heart  was  with  them  ever.  And  as  she  gained  in  men- 
tal power,  which  was  readily  estimated  by  her  compar- 
ative standing  in  school,  and  was  the  more  assured  by 
the  ease  with  which  she  mastered  difficult  problems, 
the  suggestion  of  original  writing  occurred  to  her 
again  with  renewed  force.  Putting  the  two  together — 
the  love  for  her  pen,  and  the  needs  at  home— she 
felt  that  she  must  enter  the  arena  of  authorship; 
though,  very  likely,  in  a  small  way.  She  consulted 
Miss  Sheldon,  and  then,  by  letter,  her  friend,  already 
introduced,  Mrs.  Bates :  "  I  have  always  shrunk  from 
doing  anything  in  a  public  capacity,  and  that  has  added 
a  great  deal  to  my  school-teaching  troubles.  But,  O, 
necessity !  necessity  !  Did  you  ever  think  of  such  a 
thing  as  selling  brains  for  money  ?  And  then,  such 
brains  as  mine.  Do  you  think  I  could  prepare  for  the 
press  a  small  volume  of  poems  that  would  produce  the 
desired — I  must   speak   it — cash  }     ^     ^     ^     i  some- 


50  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

times  think  of  home,  and  then  I  want  to  be  with  my 
parents  and  dear  Kate ;  I  sometimes  think,  too,  of  the 
past — a  few  past  years.     O  Maria,  how  did  I  live  ?" 

The  second  term  she  renewed  her  studies  with  such 
substantial  hope  as  to  justify  some  plans  for  writing. 
The  publication  of  a  volume  of  poems  was  abandoned, 
and  by  the  advice  of  Miss  Sheldon  she  began  to  use 
some  time  in  writing  other  matter  for  the  press.  It 
was  now  not  a  play  of  pen  with  types,  but  a  serious 
drive  for  dollars  and  cents ;  though  careful  to  prepare 
nothing  that  would  be  objectionable  to  the  most  deli- 
cate moral  sense.  Her  first  production  was  "  Charles 
Linn;  or,  How  to  observe  the  Golden  Rule," — a  small 
book  for  children,  and  a  success  in  its  way,  flattering  to 
herself  and  her  friends. 

Miss  Chubbuck,  now  an  author,  was  before  the  pub- 
lic to  be  praised  or  to  be  impaled,  according  as,  not 
merit  only  but  charity  or  caprice  might  dictate.  What 
if  the  weight  of  popular  expression  should  be  adverse  ? 
What  then  would  become  of  the  sensitive  fledgling, 
who  was  just  trying  her  wings,  and  what  would  be- 
come of  that  home  before  which  the  wolf  continually 
lay? 

The  encouragement  was  quite  gratifying,  and  the 
more  so  in  that  the  appearance  of  her  book  was  fol- 
lowed by  an  appointment  as  assistant  instructor  in  the 
department  of  camposition  in  the  Seminary.  But  it 
was  soon  seen  that  she  had  undertaken  too  much.  She 
broke  down.  She  writes  to  her  sister:  "  This  morning 
I  had  a  mammoth  tooth  extracted,  and  the  rest  are  now 
dancing  right  merrily  in  commemoration  of  the  event  ; 
so  you  must  not  wonder  if  my  ideas  dance  in  unison . 
Kate,  you  may  be   sick  for  aught  I  know — '  dreadful 


A    MEMORIAI,.  51 

sick ';  but  scarce  a  particle  of  pity  will  selfishness  allow 
me  for  you,  for  know  that  I  too  am  an  invalid.  I  am 
growing  rich  '  mighty  fast,'  I  can  assure  you ;  rich  alike 
in  purse  and  brain,  by — doing  nothing.  Do  you  not 
envy  me  ?  I  wrote  j^ou  that  I  could  pay  my  way  this 
term,  study  French,  draw,  and  be  allowed  the  use  oi 
oil  paints.  Well,  first  I  dropped  oil  painting — it  was 
too  hard  for  me ;  then  I  threw  aside  drawing  to  save 
my  nerves,  and  at  last  French  was  found  quite  too 
much.  Afterwards  I  wrote  a  little,  but  have  of  late 
been  obliged  to  abandon  the  pen  entirely.  What  is  to 
become  of  me  I  do  not  know."  Such  is  the  strain  of 
the  oppressed  student,  which,  repeated  along  the  years, 
makes  the  whole  indigent  student-class  kin. 

Turning  again  to  the  motives  that  sustained  the 
exertions  of  this  frail  prodigy,  we  find  her  saying : 
'*  Were  I  certain  of  the  most  unparalleled  success,  with- 
out any  other  inducement  than  fame,  I  should  lay  down 
my  pen  forever,  or  take  it  up  only  for  my  own  amuse- 
ment. Necessity  at  present  urges  me  to  this  exertion, 
and  when  the  necessity  is  past,  then  is  the  work  past 
also." 

Only  two  weeks  pass,  after  the  above  writing,  and 
she  is  nervously  going  over  the  list  of  her  efforts  and 
of  the  various  periodicals  to  which  she  is  appealing  for 
space.  How  justly  flattered  by  the  prompt  appearance 
of  a  contribution  to  the  famous  Kyiickerbocker  Maga- 
zine !  How  chagrined  by  the  non-appearance  of  other 
productions  in  other  monthlies!  Such  is  the  experi- 
ence of  young  writers,  and  Miss  Chubbuck  could  not 
be  an  exception,  in  an  editor's  choices,  on  the  ground 
of  either  poor  health  or  "necessity."  But  "Charles 
Linn "  was  an  almost   phenomenal   success,  and   the 


52  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

heart  that  went  pit-a-pat  from  fear,  when  the  manu- 
script was  given  to  the  printer,  was  now  jubilant,  as 
fifty-one  dollars  came  to  her  empty  purse. 

As  with  other  authors,  writing  was  work,  not  play. 
The  enjoyment  of  the  pen  was  attended  and  followed 
by  a  "throbbing  head  and  tingling  nerves."  In  com- 
mon with  many,  perhaps  the  majority  of  the  "  Knights 
of  the  quill,"  she  had  inspired  moments,  and  these  must 
be  used,  at  whatever  cost.  Then  there  was  the  never- 
failing  incentive,  stronger  than  motives  of  self-preser- 
vation— the  case  of  necessity  at  "the  loggery."  So, 
whether  by  noonda}^  sun  or  midnight  lamp,  every  par- 
ticle of  inspiration  must  be  utilized.  Dr.  Kendrick 
gives  the  following  incident,  as  one  of  many : 

"  As  Miss  Sheldon  was  at  one  time  passing  through 
the  halls,  near  midnight,  a  light  streaming  from  Emi- 
ly's apartment  attracted  her  attention,  and,  softly  open- 
ing the  door,  she  stole  in  upon  her  vigils.  Emily  sat 
in  her  night-dress,  her  papers  lying  outspread  before 
her,  grasping  with  both  hands  her  throbbing  temples, 
and  pale  as  a  marble  statue.  Miss  Sheldon  went  to 
her,  whispered  words  of  sympathy,  and  gently  chided 
her  for  robbing  her  system  of  its  needed  repose. 
Emily's  heart  was  already  full,  and  now  the  fountain 
of  feeling  overflowed  in  uncontrollable  weeping.  '  O, 
Miss  Sheldon,'  she  exclaimed,  '  I  ynust  write !  I  7)i2ist 
write!  I  must  do  what  I  can  to  aid  my  poor  par- 
ents.' " 

Her  hopefulness  greatly  increased  upon  the  gener- 
ous reception  that  her  first  book  enjoyed,  and  now  her 
pen  flew  at  the  top  of  its  speed.  She  also  widened  her 
plans,  sending  for  her  sister  Kate  in  order  to  give  her 
the  advantages  of  the  school.     That  snug  sum  that 


A    MEMORIAL.  53 

"  Charles  Linn  "  brought  so  promptly  may  have  turned 
her  head.  A  piece  upon  which  she  relied  was  de- 
clined, and  she  was  dejected;  and  Kate,  instead  of 
being  supported,  had  an  invalid  on  her  hands  for  a 
considerable  time. 

Miss  Chubbuck  ended  her  twenty-fifth  year  with  a 
womanly  character  fully  formed,  and  with  caresses  and 
honors  thickening  upon  her.  Several  productions  had 
been  accepted  by  different  publishers,  and,  though  times 
were  hard,  hope  ran  high.  She  now  contemplated  the 
procurement  of  a  permanent  home  for  her  parents,  and 
in  a  few  months  she  did  so.  Her  biographer,  in  re- 
ferring to  this  circumstance,  says : 

Miss  Chubbuck  spent  the  summer  vacation  with  her 
parents  in  Hamilton,  and  while  there  performed  an  act 
which  showed  her  readiness,  in  meeting  the  claims  of  duty, 
to  go  to  the  utmost  limit  warranted  by  prudence.  She  pur- 
chased for  her  parents  the  house  and  garden  occupied  by 
them  in  the  village,  for  four  hundred  dollars,  the  debt  to  be 
discharged  in  four  annual  payments.  It  was  an  humble 
home  ;  but  as  the  precious  fruit  of  a  daughter's  love  it  was 
to  them  more  than  a  palace  ;  and  small  as  seems  the  sum 
to  the  eye  of  wide-spreading  wealth,  who  shall  say  that  the 
favor  of  Him  who  blessed  the  widow's  mite  did  not  rest 
upon  the  offering?  She  subsequently  increased  her  in- 
debtedness by  nearly  one-half  the  original  sum  in  repair- 
ing and  enlarging  the  premises.  Emily  felt  that  she  was 
taking  a  step  of  some  hazard,  and  calculating  largely  on 
the  "  coinable  "  capacities  of  her  brain  ;  but  filial  love  could 
not  take  counsel  of  cold-blooded  prudence  in  such  a  case ; 
and  having  indulged  in  about  the  only  kind  of  luxury  in 
which  she  ever  allowed  herself,  and  furnished  her  aged 
parents  with  a  home,  she  went  back  to  Utica  with  fresh 
incentives  to  intellectual  toil. 


54  KMII,Y   C.  JUDSON. 


^XXih0V^Mp—A  FRIEND  IN  NEED. 

Nature  creates  merit  and  fortune  brings  it  into  play. 

IvA   ROCHEFOUCAUI^D. 

Not  in  thy  hand  thy  future  life  is  hid, 

But  in  His  hand  who  rules  the  restless  sea ; 

Not  in  a  "  star  "  rests  that  supreme  decree  ; 

But  in  His  hand  who  guides  that  star  amid 

The  hosts  of  heaven.     He  hides  thy  future  way, 

But  leads  thee,  step  by  step,  from  day  to  day. 

B.  H.  KEEN. 

ASKMINARY  magazine,  such  as  is  now  regarded 
as  a  needed  exponent  of  school-life  and  work, 
was  at  this  time  "agitated"  and  brought  into  being, 
with  Miss  Chubbuck  as  its  editor.  It  ran  its  full  course 
in  one  year,  and  brought  no  cash  to  the  needy  mistress 
of  its  columns.  At  the  same  time  she  had  a  valuable 
experience  in  connection  with  it ;  she  was  supreme  in 
her  realm,  and  was  sure  that  she  would  suffer  no  dejec- 
tion from  "  rejected  manuscripts."  She  assumed  various 
guises  and  performed  literary  feats  in  many  a  role. 
Meantime  her  little  books  were  gaining  in  popular  fa- 
vor, even  surpassing  her  expectations ;  but  there  was 
one  feature  of  her  enterprise  that  thus  far  did  not  real- 
ize handsomely — the  financial.  No  amount  of  hopeful- 
ness could  make  her  labor  yield  according  to  calcula- 
tion, and  ultimately  the  books  wound  up  their  "  little 
day";  at  least,  before  she  was  enriched  by  them. 


A   MKMORIAI,.  55 

The  dear  ones  at  Hamilton  were  justly  proud  of  the 
token  of  Emily's  love — their  home— and  every  day  re- 
newed the  gratitude  of  their  hearts.  She  also  derived 
great  satisfaction  from  her  investment,  on  account  of 
the  happiness  it  gave  them,  and  hoped  that  her  wisdom 
would  finally  appear  to  her  credit.  Yet  there  was  the 
skeleton,  the  debt,  constantly  before  her  eyes,  but  with 
its  repulsive  features  kept  from  their  view.  "Tell 
father,"  she  writes  to  her  sister,  "there  is  but  little 
hope  of  getting  any  money  just  now  toward  my  pay- 
ment on  the  place,  but  he  must  not  be  discouraged.  I 
expect  a  windfall  of  some  sort  or  other,  though  I  can 
not  for  the  life  of  me  tell  what,  or  where  it  is  to  come 

from. 

"  '  The  darkest  day, 

(lyive  till  to-morrow),  will  have  passed  away ! '  " 

That  ghost,  however,  would  not  down  at  her  smile 
nor  at  her  bidding.  "The  debts  which  she  had  in- 
curred hung  upon  her  as  a  heavy  weight;  and  the 
expedients  to  which  she  was  driven  by  the  desperate 
state  of  her  affairs  proved  mostly  failures.  Her  arti- 
cles sent  to  different  journals  were  returned,  or  thrown 
silently,  and  probably  unread,  under  the  editor's  table. 
Nothing  but  the  irrepressible  buoyancy  of  a  most  elas- 
tic nature  prevented  her  heart  from  utterly  sinking, 
and  it  needed  all  the  encouragements  of  sympathizing 
friendship,  and  all  the  stimulus  of  necessit}^  to  prevent 
her  from  renouncing  forever  the  baffling  pursuits  of 
authorship." 

Her  religious  life  at  this  time  does  not  appear,  to 
any  marked  degree.  She  is  so  perplexed  and  embar- 
rassed by  posing  before  the  critical  world  as  an  author, 


56  KMIIvY   C.  JUDSON. 

and  by  the  disappointments  resulting  from  it,  that  the 
better  elements  of  her  Hfe  do  not  come  to  the  surface. 
Still,  it  will  be  observed  that  she  was  free  from  every 
form  of  complaint  that  might  have  been  construed  as 
murmuring  against  Providence.  The  hand  of  Wisdom 
was  all  the  while  heavy,  yet  she  sinned  not  nor  charged 
God  with  folly.  Though  far  from  being  reconciled  to 
men  (publishers  in  particular),  her  reconciliation  to 
God  was  undisturbed.  In  all  states  and  moods  her 
mind  was  trustful,  her  pen  devout  and  playful ;  and  to 
abide  in  a  Savior's  love  amid  such  repeated  wrecking 
is  an  evidence  of  decided  piety,  requiring  no  proof  of  a 
demonstrative  sort.  Her  experience,  in  fact,  was  qual- 
ifying her,  by  a  process  of  induration,  for  something 
further,  and  was  prophetic  of  its  coming. 

A  new  and  an  exciting  circumstance  now  awaits 
the  young  writer,  as  yet  scarcely  dignified  by  the  name 
of  author.  Though  her  career  was  full  of  the  unex- 
pected, yet  she  was  quite  certain  as  to  one  thing — that 
her  luck  would  be  ill  luck.  She  had  a  smile  from 
Fortune  in  being  admitted  to  the  Seminary,  but  the 
monotony  of  hardships  continued.  Her  piety,  though 
remaining  unalloyed,  was  but  partially  manifest  during 
the  time  in  which  her  powers  were  centered  upon  her 
"maiden  efforts,"  and  her  mind  excited  in  reference  to 
the  attitude  of  the  reading  world  towards  them.  How- 
ever, a  serious  concern  as  to  her  success  did  not  quench 
the  love  of  Christ  in  her  heart,  nor  obliterate  her  mis- 
sionary impressions. 

The  time  had  come  for  an  "opening  of  Provi- 
dence," and  such  an  one  as  she  did  not  anticipate. 
While  alternating  between  hope  and  despair,  the  most 


A   MKMORIAI,.  57 

to  be  expected  was  regular  employment  as  an  obscure 
or  anonymous  writer,  and  such  an  engagement  she  now 
had  as  contributor  to  the  Columbia7i  Magazine.  But  a 
surprising  sun -burst  awaited  her.  It  came  as  light 
generally  comes,  while  in  the  way  of  fidelity,  and  while 
testing  an  honorable  method  of  income. 

In  the  spring  of  1844  she,  with  her  bosom  friend, 
Miss  Anable,  made  a  trip  to  New  York,  the  "  empori- 
um of  trade  and  the  city  of  sights."  Broadway  was 
then  the  great  street  of  this  country,  and  an  opportu- 
nity of  strolling  on  its  sidewalks  and  peering  into  its 
marvelous  show-windows  was  as  the  dawn  of  a  new 
day  in  the  life  of  the  observing  school-girl.  The  beau- 
tiful goods  on  exhibition  charmed  her  eye  and  imaged 
themselves  on  her  mind,  so  that  the  "show"  remained 
with  her  long  after  she  returned  to  her  home.  But  to 
see  them  was  not  enough ;  she  must  possess  some  of 
them,  else  her  trip  would  lack  its  supreme  satisfaction. 
To  get  them — ah,  that  was  the  tug ! 

In  about  two  months  after  her  return  her  fertile 
mind  reached  a  contrivance  for  obtaining  the  goods, 
that  promised  a  little,  though  but  a  little  success.  She 
could  not  use  the  money  that  was  imperatively  de- 
manded for  other  things,  but  there  were  her  brains ! 
— yes,  the  same  that  had  failed  to  find  a  market  many 
a  time.  Another  trial  might  be  made,  and  hope  and 
desire  combined  to  start  her  faculties  into  intense  ac- 
tivity.    We  will  quote  her  admiring  biographer : 

The  Evening  Mirror  was  at  this  time  flourishing  in 
New  York,  under  the  editorial  conduct  of  George  P.  Morris 
and  N.  P.  Willis.  In  June,  after  her  return,  while  the 
splendors  of  the  metropolis  were  still  fresh  in  her  fancy, 


58  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

with  her  own  timid  figure  stealing  along  Broadway  beside 
that  of  her  more  world-experienced  friend,  Emily,  in  an 
hour  of  frolic  sportiveness,  addressed  a  letter,  half-playful, 
half-serious,  to  these  gentlemen,  intimating  her  great  de- 
sire to  become  the  possessor  of  one  of  those  "balzarines" 
and  "  neapolitans  "  which  the  shops  of  Broadway  paraded 
in  tempting  luxuriousness,  and  delicately  hinting  that  she 
would  like  to  make  the  columns  of  the  Mirror  the  means 
of  procuring  the  funds  which  the  shop-keepers  were  im- 
pertinent enough  to  ask  in  exchange  for  their  commod- 
ities. The  letter  purported  to  come  from  a  country  maid- 
en making  a  brief  sojourn  in  the  city,  and  bore  the  sug- 
gestive signature  of  Fanny  Forester.  Its  elegant  playful- 
ness attracted  the  attention  of  the  editors  of  the  Mirror. 
"  The  dip  of  their  divining  rod,"  as  Mr.  Willis  felicitously 
expressed  it,  "  detected  the  neighborhood  of  genius."  They 
saw  under  its  light  and  sportive  garb  indications  of  a  vig- 
or and  force  of  intellect  that  might  raise  their  possessor  to 
a  high  place  in  the  walks  of  literature.  They  were  indeed 
a  little  mystified  by  the  latter,  and  at  a  loss  to  determine 
whether  the  writer  was  really  the  naive  and  unsophistica- 
ted child  of  nature  that  she  gave  herself  out  for,  wantoning 
in  the  creations  of  a  genius  that  was  just  revealing  itself 
to  her  virgin  consciousness,  or  a  veteran  and  wily  spinster? 
a  practical  magazinist,  who  had  trained  herself  to  that  last 
perfection  of  art  which  shows  as  perfect  artlessness. 

The  letter  thus  had  its  desired  and  designed  effect. 
It  stands  to  her  credit  as  a  piquant  and  cogent  writer 
of  pleasantry  that  it  was  not  thrown  aside,  as  anony- 
mous or  no77t  de  plujne  communications  generally  are. 
It  did  not  gain  acceptance  by  recommendation,  nor  by 
the  magnetism  of  the  author's  personal  presence,  nor  by 
the  hope  that  the  paper  might  catch  unawares  some 
famous  "  man  scribbler."    The  Mirror  was  not  in  need. 


A    MKMORIAL.  59 

It  yielded  to  the  tempting  offer  and  struck  a  bargain 
through  the  promise  of  a  racy  article  which  the  letter 
with  innocent  furtiveness  conveyed.  Then  Mr.  Willis' 
"divining  rod"  revealed  the  presence  of  genius,  while 
his  heart  moved  with  a  pulsation  of  sympathy,  not  so 
much  for  one  in  want  as  for  one  seeking  a  fair  oppor- 
tunity in  literary  life.  It  was  a  clear  case  of  honest 
appeal  and  generous  response.  The  Mirror  "  walked 
willingly  into  the  lady's  noose." 

Miss  Chubbuck  now  appeared  as  '*  Fanny  Forester," 
little  realizing  how  long  and  how  far  the  name  would 
go.  She  "conjured  a  new  bonnet  and  dress  out  of  her 
inkstand";  but  this  was  merely  the  beginning,  as  it 
was  the  least,  of  her  conjurations  at  the  same  fount. 
Her  sketch  of  herself  and  her  friend  who  accompanied 
her  to  New  York,  "  a  most  spirited  and  dramatic  delin- 
eation of  assumed  characters  and  relations,"  opened  a 
way  for  her  to  the  readers  of  popular  fiction  throughout 
the  country.  The  worst,  though  not  the  hardest,  was 
over.  The  blind  stroke  for  "something  to  wear" 
proved  the  fortunate  one,  such  as  in  other  departments 
of  effort  many  an  obscure  toiler  would  like  to  know 
how  to  make.  She  found  a  friend  who  was  able  and 
glad  to  give  her  prestige ;  who  also  "  devoted  himself 
to  the  cultivation  of  her  talents  and  fame  with  a  gener- 
ous ardor,  which  she  repaid  with  a  profound  sense  of 
indebtedness  as  to  the  '  foster-father '  of  her  intellect." 
They  did  not  meet  till  after  the  lapse  of  a  year  from  the 
time  the  correspondence  began,  and  they  met  but  once : 

She  almost  literally  "  awoke  one  morning  and  found 
herself  famous."  The  path  to  competence  and  fame  opened 
itself  attractively  before  her.     Ere  she  was  aware  of  it,  ere 


6o  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

she  began  to  dream  of  it,  the  name  of  Fanny  Forester  was 
echoed  through  the  country,  and  her  praises  were  on 
every  tongue.  The  timid,  trembling  girl,  who  had  shrunk, 
like  the  sensitive  plant,  from  the  breath  of  public  notice, 
dreading  the  very  applause  which  she  courted,  was  now 
the  cynosure  of  all  eyes — the  admired  of  all  admirers.  Ap- 
plications soon  came  in  from  the  publishers  of  the  popular 
magazines  for  the  aid  of  her  attractive  pen  and  the  prestige 
of  her  name,  at  the  highest  current  prices  in  this  depart- 
ment of  literature. 

The  budding  of  fame  imposes  a  trying  ordeal  upon 
a  Christian.  If  one,  consciously  posing  before  the 
world  with  that  bewitching  bud  before  the  eye,  does 
not  neglect  the  sweet  flowers  of  devotion,  the  case  will 
be  worth  noting.  Especially  is  it  difficult  for  a  young 
woman  who  has  pined,  for  years,  for  a  pen  of  power,  to 
resist  the  unintended  flattery  of  such  a  man  as  Na- 
thaniel P.  Willis.  He  tells  Miss  Chubbuck  that  she  is 
more  gifted  than  she  thinks  ;  that  he  will  serve  her 
and  her  reputation  to  the  best  of  his  means  and  abil- 
ity ;  that  she  is  more  readable  than  any  other  female 
writer  in  this  country.  It  is  true  that  the  number  of 
writers  then  was  quite  small ;  but  so,  also,  was  the  num- 
ber of  appreciative  readers  and  publishers.  And  that 
she  should  fail  to  feel  the  force  of  such  avowed  admira- 
tion, and  to  pique  herself  on  the  vast  benefits  of  the 
proffered  friendship,  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  imag- 
ined. In  fact,  that  her  head  should  be  turned — turned, 
at  least  temporarily,  from  a  mission  to  besotted  hea- 
then to  a  life  of  literary  activity  and  companionship, 
does  not  give  sufficient  occasion  for  persons  of  like 
nature  to  throw  stones. 


A    MKMORIAIv.  6l 

It  appears,  however,  that  authorship  had  been  re- 
garded by  her  as,  in  large  degree,  a  business  expedi- 
ent. Her  head  was  not  so  "  turned  "  that  she  relaxed 
her  faithfulness  in  the  work  of  teaching.  She  did  not 
resign  her  position  ;  she  simply  added  writing,  as  she 
found  opportunity.  She  was  determined  to  pay  her 
debts,  and  to  earn  the  money  wdth  which  to  do  it — 
debts  made  not  in  self-ministration,  but  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  procuring  a  home  for  her  parents,  which 
could  not  be  secured  in  any  other  way.  The  nobility 
of  her  aim  is  well  characterized  by  the  graphic  pen  of 
Dr.  Kendrick: 

She  made  no  parade  of  her  benevolence  or  her  exer- 
tions. She  silently  resolved  and  then  resolutely — almost 
doggedl}^ — worked,  scarcely  half  aware,  herself,  either  of  the 
depth  of  her  sensibility,  or  of  the  extent  and  sternness  of 
her  toils  and  sacrifices.  The  only  true  heroism  is  uncon- 
scious heroism — that  which  performs  prodigies  of  love 
under  the  simple  impulse  of  duty — and  this  was  hers.  Let 
now  the  majority  of  those  calling  themselves  Christians, 
bearing  in  mind  the  above  facts,  read  over  her  sketches, 
and  observ^e  the  spirit  which  they  breathe,  and  the  lessons 
which  they  inculcate,  and  then  ask  themselves  if  they  can 
give  as  good  an  account  of  their  hours  of  relaxation  from 
the  sterner  purposes  of  life.  Dress,  party-going,  frivolous 
conversation,  even  the  most  of  lighter  reading — place  over 
against  these  the  truth  and  purity  of  Emily's  delightful 
sketches  !  She  was  exhausting  the  springs  of  j^outh  in 
behalf  of  the  sinking  energies  of  age,  but  never  by  a 
moment's  compromise  of  moral  principle. 

To  those  leading  an  aimless  life  let  this  shining  ex- 
ample of  love,  lo3^alty,  nobility,  come  with  the  radiance 
peculiarly  its  owm. 


62  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

Miss  Chubbuck  had  now  gained  substantial  recog- 
nition ;  such  an  espousal  as  thousands  of  the  unknown 
are  pining  to  obtain,  and  many  of  whom  need  only  a 
literary  spouse  to  usher  them  into  Fame.  The  acci- 
dental "sights"  in  Broadway, the  balzarine  and  the  ne- 
apolitan,  were  the  slight  instrumentality  by  which  the 
young  writer  secured  the  attention  desired.  But  for 
them  her  merits  might  have  remained  long  in  the  keep- 
ing of  a  few  admiring,  though  powerless  friends.  And 
now  that  Mr.  Willis  had  attentively  considered  the  ini- 
tiatory letter,  had  suspected  the  author  to  be  a  "  regular 
contributor  "  to  some  of  the  leading  magazines,  and  had 
said  something  about  her,  besides  giving  her  space  in 
his  paper,  her  market  as  an  author  was  well  established. 
In  such  devious  ways  and  on  such  slender  threads  is 
found  the  key  to  many  a  powerful  mind. 

The  Mirror's  acceptance  of  her  articles  awakened 
in  others  a  desire  to  have  contributions  from  the  same 
pen.  Very  soon  Graham  and  Godey,  proprietors  of 
popular  magazines  of  that  day,  sought  her  aid.  A  New 
York  "lion"  went  out  to  the  center  of  the  state  to 
trace  and  behold  the  prodigy ;  at  the  time  a  difficult 
and  not  very  frequent  proceeding.  She  at  once  became 
the  observed  of  observers,  the  admired  of  admirers ; 
and  had  she  lost  her  self-poise  the  blame  would  not 
have  rested  upon  herself. 

This  .first  blast  of  Fame  was  quite  trying  to  one  so 
delicately  constituted,  mentally  and  physically,  as  was 
Emily  Chubbuck.  Added  to  the  strains  she  was  al- 
ready experiencing,  it  was  too  much.  In  a  few  months 
she  returned  to  Hamilton,  and  was  there  seized  with  a 
fever,  which  kept  her  from  seminary  duties  for  a  con- 


A   MEMORIAI..  63 

siderable  period.  On  returning  to  Utica  she  was  still 
feeble,  and  as  the  spring  came  on  her  friends  believed 
that  its  usual  rigor,  in  that  latitude,  rendered  it  unwise 
for  her  to  remain  there.  They  therefore  interceded 
for  accommodations  for  her  in  the  milder  climate  of 
Philadelphia,  and  found  them  in  the  pleasant  home  of 
Rev.  A.  D.  Gillette,  a  "  born  gentleman  "  and  a  cordial 
Christian. 

This  step,  though  made  necessary  by  feeble  health, 
was  another  one  upward  in  social  distinction,  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  still  another.  From  a  penniless  roll-picker 
in  Pratt's  Hollow,  she  had  advanced  to  the  place  of  an 
invited  guest  in  a  cultivated  family  in  the  city  of  Broth- 
erly lyove.  She  enjoyed  the  associations  and  took  in 
the  advantages  with  much  relish  and  profit,  as  evinced 
in  her  correspondence :  "I  am  growing  better  and  bet- 
ter every  day,  and  promise  myself  a  delightful  time.  I 
think  I  shall  like  the  city  better  than  I  do  New  York 
— all  but  the  white  blinds  ;  them  I  can  not  endure.  It 
seems  all  the  time  as  though  somebody  was  poking 
white  sticks  in  my  eyes.  When  I  am  in  walkable  or- 
der, and  little  Jemmy  Gillette  gets  well,  Mrs.  G.  and  I 
will  measure  the  pavements  at  a  great  rate.  The  weath- 
er yesterday  and  to-day  is  hke  June.  You  will  be  able 
to  judge  something  about  it  when  I  tell  you  that  (such 
a  cold  body  as  I  am)  I  sit  all  the  time  at  the  open 
window." 

Philadelphia  ranked  New  York  in  literary  men,  and 
they  were  not  blind  to  the  new  stars  that  appeared. 
Some  of  them  had  derived  pleasure,  if  not  profit,  from 
her  writings.  One,  at  least,  had  drawn  from  the  silent 
corner  of  his  editorial  sanctum  a  number  of  her  articles 


64  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

that  he  had  not  before  recognized,  and  had  published 
them  so  soon  as  her  no7ii  de  guerre  attained  popularity. 
The  irritation  caused  her  by  this  disposition  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  her  success,  and  the  "  hearing"  concerning 
the  matter  that  she  had  given  him  by  letter,  made  their 
meeting  somewhat  embarrassing.  Disturbances  be- 
tween author  and  publisher  were  a  new  kind  of  troubles 
to  her,  but  with  trembling,  blundering  and  "  stumbling 
against  big  words,"  she  finally  felt  that  she  had  prop- 
erly impressed  him.  Among  others  who  paid  her  their 
respects  were  Rufus  W.  Griswold,  Joseph  C.  Neal  and 
Horace  B.  Wallace,  well-known  literary  characters,  who 
received  her  to  their  friendship  and  sympathy. 

After  a  number  of  weeks  delightfully  passed  in 
Philadelphia  she  returns  north,  stopping  a  fortnight  in 
Brooklyn,  where  for  the  first  and  only  time  she  had  in- 
terviews with  Mr.  Willis.  Their  meeting  was  one  of 
the  rare  occasions  which  only  literary  friends  can  ap- 
preciate. It  was  the  richer  because  of  the  circum- 
stance that  the  one  was  a  giver  and  the  other  a  receiv- 
er, and  that  he  who  risked  his  own  prestige  to  help  a 
meritorious  girl  to  gain  her  place  was  now,  so  soon, 
permitted  to  welcome  her  to  his  own  proud  eminence, 
and  she  to  rejoice  with  him  and  in  him.  It  was  a  fine 
example  of  the  blessedness  of  giving,  in  a  department 
of  life  where  the  example  is  too  seldom  seen.* 

-The  poet  Stoddard,  in  concluding  his  paper  on  N.  P.  Willis  in  the 
January  Lippincott,  1890,  says  :  Beyond  and  above  all  other  editors  and 
authors  whom  I  chanced  to  know  in  my  early  years,  Willis  was  the  most 
watchful  for  and  the  most  considerate  towafds  young-  writers— the  most 
appreciative  and  generous,  and,  better  than  all  this,  the  most  helpful. 
His  papers  were  always  open  to  them,  and  his  pen  always  ready  to 
praise  them.  He  discovered— if  the  phrase  be  not  too  strong— Bayard 
Taylor,  whose  juvenile  verse  I  saw  in  the  Home  Journal,  qxl^  the  gen- 


A    MEMORIAL.  ^5 

Going  on  to  Utica  she  resumed  her  work  in  the 
Seminary  with  invigorated  health.  About  twelve 
months  had  elapsed  since  the  Mirror  made  her  name 
''coinable  by  praises,"  and.she  had  already  done  con- 
siderable "  coining."  Her  pseudonym,  incidentally  ap- 
pended to  her  first  letter,  had  acquired  a  talismanic 
power,  and  those  who  had  cast  aside  the  communica- 
tions of ''  Emily  Chubbuck"  were  now  glad  to  publish 
them  as  the  productions  of  ''Fanny  Forester."  Her 
friends  were  beginning  to  feel  a  degree  of  fear  lest  the 
effect  of  popular  applause  should  prove  deleterious  to 
her,  so  sensitive  was  she  to  both  praise  and  blame. 
And  one  of  her  nearest  friends,  one  of  her  first  teach- 
ers in  the  Seminary,  but  at  this  time  the  wife  of  Presi- 
dent Nott,  of  Union  College,  addressed  her  on  the  sub- 
ject. Her  reply  showed  that  while  she  was  not  un- 
mindful of  the  peril  she  was  encountering,  she  possessed 
strength  of  character,  and  took  a  rational  view  of  hu- 
man merit  and  applause.     She  says : 

"  These  newspaper  puffs  are  accidental  and  ephem- 
eral things,  and  while  I  will  not  despise  them,  because 
in  their  way  they  are  an  advantage  to  me,  do  not,  I 
beg  of  you,  think  that  I  am  such  a  simpleton  as  to  be 
'  spoiled '  by  them.  As  to  the  attentions  I  have  received 
since  I  have  been  gone,  they  have  certainly  put  me  a 

tlewomen  who  wrote  over  the  pen-names  of  Fanny  Forester,  Edith  May 
and  Grace  Greenwood. — The  Home  Journal. 

Green  forever  be  the  grave  of  such  a  man !— one  who  does  not  con- 
clude that  an  aspiration  for  a  place  in  the  field  of  literature  is  a  reason 
for  suppressing  the  aspirant.  Youth  of  genius  are  mostly  modest  and 
exceedingly  sensitive,  and  it  will  never  be  known  how  much  talent  has 
remained  undeveloped  nor  how  many  bright  spirits  have  been  quenched 
by  the  merciless  dash  of  unsympathetic  souls.  The  course  of  Lavinia 
Chubbuck  in  shielding  her  defenceless  little  sister,  Emily,  is  in  point. 


66  KMII,Y   C.  JUDSON. 

little  more  at  ease  with  myself,  but  I  do  not  believe 
that  you  will  say  they  have  been  disadvantageous.  In 
sober  truth,  Heaven  has  blessed  me  (as  a  balance  for 
the  romance  which  I  am  not  going  to  disclaim)  with  a 
sort  of  mathematical  genius,  a  dollar-and-cent  way  of 
estimating  things,  which,  when  necessary,  takes  the  po- 
etry out  of  them  in  a  twinkling.  Will  you  not  give  me 
credit  for  some  comynon  sense  at  bottom?  *  *  Let 
me  entreat  you,  however,  once  for  all,  never  to  be  for  a 
moment  troubled  about  all  this  fol-de-rol  stuff's  turning 
my  brain.  Were  you  in  my  place  you  would  see  it 
with  different  eyes  from  what  you  do.  Things  very 
pretty  to  look  at  become  smoke  when  you  touch  them. 
Now,  /  mn  touching  them,  and  I  laugh  to  find  what 
painted  bits  of  butterflies'  wings  might  have  seemed 
wondrously  attractive,  if,  half  a  dozen  years  ago,  I 
could  have  foreseen  that  it  was  to  be  my  lot  to  catch 
them." 

Those  who  discover  the  semblance  of  self-confi- 
dence in  the  above  extract  will  not  fail  to  discern  also 
the  fine  grains  of  "common  sense  at  bottom."  And 
they  will  bear  in  mind  that  the  prudent  admonition 
she  received  came  from  one  admired  if  not  revered,  and 
hence  produced  the  flutter  manifest  throughout  her 
lengthy  letter,  and  the  apparent  acerbity  of  some  of 
her  language.  A  little  volatility  in  youthtime,  as  in 
her  case,  is  but  the  presage  of  an  important  element 
of  character. 

The  sudden  transition  from  poor,  plodding  Emily 
Chubbuck  to  the  famous  Fanny  Forester  was  a  great 
strain  for  human  nature  to  endure ;  and  that  the  hero- 
ine of  this  narrative  was  not  overstrained  thereby  will 


A  MEMORIAL.  67 

become  evident  when  it  is  seen  how  she  turned  from 
the  laurels  so  honorably  won  to  a  career  that  was  cer- 
tain to  bring  trials  with  which  she  was  not  familiar 
and  of  the  severest  nature.  From  literary  eminence  to 
religious  consecration  is  a  long  step ;  and  in  taking  it 
she  proved  that  piety  held  the  supreme  seat  in  her 
heart. 

In  reflecting  upon  the  incidents  of  this  chapter  the 
observing  reader  will  naively  conclude  (using  his  own 
divining  rod)  that  Miss  Chubbuck's  ultimate  aim  in 
the  correspondence  with  Mr.  Willis  was  recognition. 
The  shop- window  movement  was  probably  a  feint  in 
her  generalship,  and  Mr. Willis,  seeing  it,  was  too  much 
pleased  with  its  cleverness  to  permit  it  to  pass  without 
reward.  He  rather  enjoyed  the  toils  of  such  an  en- 
chantress. And  while  it  may  not  be  disputed  that  the 
balzarine  had  "taken  the  eye"  of  the  needy  maiden, 
the  full  blooming  of  her  long  cherished  hopes,  in  the 
world  of  authorship,  was  still  more  desired.  That  well 
studied  letter  was  doubtless  intended  as  a  specimen  of 
the  conjurer's  ability. 


68  ^MILY  C.  JUDSON. 


VI. 

(S'havmeb  ^aU\)—THE  swift  secret. 

Elevation  is  to  merit  what  dress  is  to  a  handsome  per- 
son,—La  ROCHEFOUCAUIvD. 

"  Nothing  in  the  world  is  single ; 
All  things  by  a  law  divine 
In  one  another's  being  mingle: — 
Why  not  I  with  thine?" 

THE  summer  of  1845  was  a  memorable  one  in  Miss 
Chubbuck's  life.  She  had  returned  from  Philadel- 
phia with  new  mental  animation  and  with  lips  wet  with 
Castalian  dew.  Having  just  come  down  from  the 
mount,  how  could  it  be  otherwise  than  that  she  should 
seem  transfigured,  from  the  company  and  the  atmos- 
phere enjoyed?  But  her  mind  was  still  without  the 
sound  body  so  much  needed,  and  on  this  account  the 
minor  and  more  laborious  duties  of  her  station  were 
entrusted  to  other  hands. 

The  coveted  vacation  came,  and  with  it  an  oppor- 
tunity of  spending  her  time  in  recreating  at  Hamilton 
and  in  parts  adjacent  to  that  healthful  center.  But 
Nature  gives  to  a  person  only  one  constitution,  and 
when  impaired  it  is  not  readily  renewed.  She  was 
still  frail.  Her  friend  Willis  had  advised  a  total  change 
of  sky,  and  had  proffered  his  services  to  aid  in  carrying 
out  any  plan  she  might  adopt.  Also,  the  American 
consul  to  Genoa  had  opened  the  way  for  her  to  accom- 


A    MEMORIAL.  69 

pany  his  family  to  Italy;  and  this  opportunity  she 
seriously  thought  of  accepting.  She  had  come  to  feel 
that  since  her  earnings  enabled  her  to  travel,  it  might 
be  highly  beneficial  to  take  an  extended  trip  and  spend 
some  time  in  a  milder  climate,  "  where  the  oranges 
grow,  and  they  have  roses  in  the  winter  time." 

The  autumn  came  on.  Every  thought  of  going 
abroad  had  been  abandoned,  but  it  seemed  to  be  unwise 
for  her  to  remain  in  the  rigorous  New  York  climate. 
The  expedient  most  deserving  consideration  was  that 
to  which  she  had  resorted  in  the  winter  previous ;  and 
having  received  an  invitation  to  the  hospitable  home  of 
Mr.  Gillette,  for  a  second  term,  she  went  to  Philadel- 
phia in  October,  to  spend  the  fall  and  winter. 

This  change,  so  pleasant  in  some  respects,  was  full 
of  foreboding.  If  every  year  she  must  go  away  from 
home  and  employment  to  seek  health,  how  long  will  it 
be  ere  this  course  will  be  of  no  avail  ?  Then  who  will 
take  up  the  responsibilities  that  fall  from  her  hands  ? 

There  is  no  evidence,  however,  that  Miss  Chubbuck 
w^as  overcast  with  gloom  at  the  prospect.  Her  hopeful 
and  determined  mind  carried  her  above  the  clouds. 
But  interest  on  debts  does  not  stop  to  give  one  time  for 
recuperation.  She  must  in  some  way  keep  up  her  men- 
tal habits  and  labors,  in  order  that  interest  might  be 
kept  down.  And  while  active  with  her  pen,  her  literary 
friends  were  again  beguiling  some  of  her  hours  by  their 
attentions,  and  doing  everything  practicable  to  make 
her  sojourn  pleasant  and  profitable. 

Meantime  a  gracious  Providence  had  mapped  out  a 
new  and  surprising  course  for  her,  and  already  had 
been  leading  her  in  a  way  that  she  knew  not,  and  in 


70  BMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

paths  she  had  not  seen.  She  was  suddenly  aroused  by- 
such  a  presentation  as  was  very  rare  in  her  day,  and 
was  by  no  means  even  a  possible  thing  in  her  mind. 
While  thoroughly  engaged  in  authorship  and  in  busi- 
ness relating  to  it,  with  a  coterie  of  admirers  about  her 
who  could  scarcely  speak  to  her  of  anything  else,  and 
thus  was  oblivious  to  the  missionary  aspiration  of  her 
early  days,  what  should  shock  her  out  of  her  new 
dreams  but  the  return  of  that  "old  love"!  A  great 
missionary  had  returned  to  this  country,  arriving  at 
about  the  time  she  went  to  Philadelphia ;  and  what  oc- 
curred soon  afterward  we  will  permit  the  graphic  pen 
of  Dr.  Kendrick  to  relate  : 

In  December,  Dr.  Judson,  being  in  Boston,  was  request- 
ed to  attend  a  series  of  missionary  meetings  in  Philadel- 
phia, and  Rev.  Mr.  Gillette,  Emily's  host,  went  on  to  Boston 
to  secure  his  presence.  On  their  way  between  New  York 
and  Philadelphia  a  slight  railroad  accident  detained  them 
two  or  three  hours,  and  to  relieve  the  tedium  of  the  delay, 
Mr.  Gillette  seeing  a  volume  of  the  newly  published  "  Trip- 
pings in  Author  Land  "  in  the  hands  of  a  friend,  borrowed 
it  and  handed  it  to  Dr.  Judson.  He  hesitatingly  took  it, 
the  title  not  promising  a  work  specially  to  his  taste ;  but 
carelessly  opening  it  he  soon  found  his  attention  riveted 
by  the  grace  of  the  style,  and  the  truth  and  sprightliness  of 
the  narrative.  On  Mr.  Gillette  returning  to  him,  he  in- 
quired who  was  the  author  of  the  book,  adding  that  it  was 
written  with  great  beauty  and  power,  reiterating,  emphat- 
ically, "  with  great  beauty  and  power."  He  asked  if  the 
lady  was  a  Christian,  and  being  informed  that  she  was, 
said  :  "  I  should  be  glad  to  know  her.  A  lady  who  writes 
so  well  ought  to  write  better.  Tt  is  a  pity  that  such  fine 
talents  should  be  employed  on  such  subjects."    Mr.  Gillette 


A   MEMORIAL.  7^ 

replied  that  lie  would  soon  be  able  to  make  her  acquaint- 
ance, as  she  was  then  an  inmate  of  bis  own  bouse.  "  Is 
she  a  Baptist?"  asked  Dr.  Judson ;  and  being  answered 
affirmatively,  he  renewedly  expressed  his  desire  to  see  and 
converse  with  her,  as  it  was  a  pity  that  talents  so  brilliant 
should  not  be  more  worthily  employed.  They  arrived  in 
(or  out  of)  due  time  at  Philadelphia,  and  Dr.  Judson  was 
welcomed  to  the  house  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  S.  Robarts,  who 
became  warm  personal  friends,  as  they  were  already  active 
friends  of  the  mission  cause. 

Promptly  on  the  next  day  he  came  over  to  Mr.  Gil- 
lette's.    Emily  (in  her  morning  dress)  was  submitting  to 
the  not  very  poetical  process  of  vaccination.     As  soon  as  it 
was  over.  Dr.  Judson  conducted  her  to  the  sofa,  saying  that 
he  wished  to  talk  to  her.     She  replied  half  playfully  that 
she  should  be  delighted  and  honored  by  having  him  talk 
to  her.     With  characteristic  impetuosity  he  immediately 
inquired  how  she  could  reconcile  it  with  her  conscience  to 
employ  talents  so  noble  in  a  species  of  writing  so  little 
useful  or  spiritual  as  the  sketches  which  he  had  read. 
Emily's  heart  melted ;    she  replied  with  seriousness  and 
candor,  and  explained  the  circumstances  which  had  drawn 
her  into  this  field  of  authorship.     Indigent  parents,  large- 
ly dependent  on  her  efforts— years  of  laborious  teaching 
—books  pubHshed  with  but  little  profit,  had  driven  her  to 
still  new  and  untried  paths  in  which  at  last  success  unex- 
pectedly  opened    upon    her.     Making    this    employment 
purely  secondary,  and   carefully   avoiding  everything   of 
doubtful  tendency,  she  could  not  regard  her  course  open  to 
serious  strictures.     It  was  now  Dr.  Judson's  turn  to  be  soft- 
ened.    He  admitted  the  force  of  her  reasons,  and  that  even 
his  own  strict   standard   could  not  severely  censure  the 
direction  given  to  filial  love.     He  opened  another  subject. 
He  wished  to  secure  a  person  to  prepare  a  memoir  of  his 
recently  deceased  wife,  and  it  was  partly,  in  fact,  with  this 


72  ^MII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

purpose  that  lie  had  sought  Emily's  acquaintance.  She 
entertained  the  proposition,  and  the  discussion  of  this 
matter  naturally  brought  them  much  together  during  the 
ensuing  few  days.  The  consequences  of  the  coming  to- 
gether of  two  persons  respectively  so  fascinating  were 
what  has  often  occurred  since  the  days  of  Adam  and  Eve. 
They  became  mutually  interested. 

The  reader  is  now  confronted  with  a  case  of 
"love";  one  that  contains  all  the  principal  features 
which  awaken  interest — one  enveloped  by  the  glamour 
of  romance,  and  yet  characterized  by  the  veriest  reality. 
In  any  other  sphere  than  that  of  foreign  missions  it 
might  have  been  believed  that  this  "unexpected" 
thing  also  would  happen;  but  here  it  is  a  marvel. 
Under  the  severest  of  providential  afflictions  the  most 
distinguished  missionary  of  the  age  returns  to  his  na- 
tive land.  Under  a  previous  bereavement  he  had  lived 
nearly  eight  tedious  years  without  a  child  or  any  rela- 
tive for  solace  or  society,  and  much  of  the  time  in  a 
solitude  which  he  felt  to  be  enforced  upon  him  for 
purposes  of  spiritual  discipline.  His  solitariness  was 
so  severe  that  it  became  a  crucial  test  of  his  power  of 
endurance.  Dw^elling  apart  in  the  densest  jungle,  he 
seemed  neglected  of  God  and  men.  Even  the  tigers 
came  and  looked  upon  him  and  walked  away. 

After  such  an  experience  it  was  evident  that  he 
could  live  without  a  home,  while  he  could  testify  from 
his  inmost  soul  that  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone. 
Nothing  remains,  however,  to  indicate  that  he  was 
thinking  of  remarriage  at  the  time  he  went  to  Phila- 
delphia. After  two  such  wives  as  Ann  Hasseltine  and 
Sarah  Boardman  it  would  seem  that  Heaven  should 


A   MEMORIAI,.  73 

regard  him  as  having  been  abundantly  crowned  here, 
and  would  ask  him  to  await  his  further  coronation  till 
he  should  enter  the  Paradise  he  was  already  nearing. 
But  God's  thoughts  are  not  as  our  thoughts,  neither 
His  ways  as  our  ways.  Accident  and  incident  com- 
bined to  reveal  his  will. 

Dr.  Judson  did  not  return  to  this  country  wife-hunt- 
ing, nor  to  see  his  friends,  nor  to  obtain  rest.  He  was 
here  because  of  the  sorrows  of  St.  Helena  and  for  the 
sake  of  motherless  children.  Had  there  been  no  chil- 
dren there  in  the  death-ship,  he  would  have  cleared 
that  port  straightway  for  the  harbor  of  Maulmain. 
And,  accordingly,  when  here,  he  spared  no  diligence  to 
adjust  the  affairs  of  his  family,  that  he  might  return 
speedily  to  the  land  of  darkness  to  which  he  had  giv- 
en his  heart.  His  continuance  here  during  the  later 
months  of  his  stay  was  merely  a  stroke  of  wisdom,  for 
the  increase  of  missionary  interest,  and  that  alone. 

Having  been  blessed  with  those  wonderful  wives, 
who  impersonated  just  the  excellences  he  desired, 
he  was  disciplined  to  discover  and  prepared  to  ap- 
preciate the  highest  traits  in  woman,  of  whatever 
kind.  He  could  not  expect  to  find  all  in  any  one,  but 
he  required  that  those  found  should  be  positive  and 
give  promise  of  service  in  some  way  in  the  work  to 
which  he  had  consecrated  his  life.  He  was  not  in  peril 
of  being  overreached  in  a  matrimonial  bargain ;  and 
his  mind  was  sufficiently  alert  to  observe  his  equal  or 
counterpart  whenever  she  might  appear.  Not  search, 
but  discernment,  brought  him,  a  suitor,  to  the  feet  of 
Fanny   Forester. 

She,  on  the  other  part,  was  too  finely  made  to  be 


74  KMILY    C.  JUDSON. 

insensible  to  the  presence  of  a  superior  character,  and 
to  the  points  of  fellowship,  if  anj/ ,  between  him  and 
herself  Bach  being  known  to  be  free  to  marry,  the 
suggestiveness  of  circumstances  was  almost  inevitable. 
And  then,  she,  at  least,  had  been  rallied  by  some  and 
advised  by  others  in  respect  to  possible  alliances.  She 
had  considered  the  matter — and  why  not  ? — and  had 
even  taken  counsel  of  her  excellent  friend,  Mr.  Willis, 
who  replied  in  the  serious  tone  of  one  deeply  interested. 
He  said  :  "  You  ask  me  whether  you  shall  marry  for 
convenience.  Most  decidedly,  no  !  What  convenience 
would  pay  you  for  passing  eighteen  hours  out  of  every 
twenty-four  for  the  rest  of  your  life,  within  four  walls, 
in  company  with  a  person  not  to  your  taste  ?  I  judge 
of  you  by  myself  I  would  not  pass  one  year  thus  for 
any  fortune  on  earth.  The  private  hours  of  one  single 
month  are  too  precious  for  any  price  but  love.  Think 
how  little  of  the  day  poverty  can  touch,  after  all.  Only 
the  hours  when  you  are  out  of  your  chamber.  But 
the  moment  your  chamber  door  is  shut  on  you  alone, 
all  comparison  between  you,  and  the  richest  is  at  an 
end.  lyCt  the  majority  of  women  marry  for  conven- 
ience if  they  will ;  but  you  are  brimful  of  romance, 
and  delicacy,  and  tenderness,  and  a  marriage  without 
love,  for  you,  would  be  sealing  up  a  volcano  with  a 
cobweb.  You  must  love — you  7nust  and  will  love  pas- 
sionately and  overpoweringly.  You  have  as  yet  turned 
but  one  leaf  in  a  volume  of  your  heart's  life.  Your 
bosom  is  an  altar  on  which  there  is  a  fire  newly  lit 
— lit  by  the  late  and  sudden  awakening  of  your  gen- 
ius. Your  peculiarity  is,  that  your  genius  has  its  altar 
on  your  heart,  and  not,  like  other  people's,  in  the  brain. 


A   ME^MORIAI,.  75 

Take  care  how  you  throw  away  the  entire  music  and 
beauty  of  a  life  for  only  a  home  that  will  grow  hate- 
ful to  you.  I  warn  you  that  you  77iust  love  sooner  or 
later." 

With  this  presentation  of  the  subject,  concerning 
which  inquiry  was  made,  coming  from  a  friend  whose 
opinion  was  powerful  and  final,  coming,  too,  previ- 
ously to  the  time  of  meeting  Dr.  Judson,  it  is  certain 
that  Miss  Chubbuck  could  not  have  been  actuated 
supremely  by  any  other  than  the  motive  her  friend 
had  so  impressively  commended.  As  a  purely  domes- 
tic affair,  there  was  only  love  that  could  prevail ;  be- 
cause the  difference  in  ages  was  about  thirty  years, 
and  their  habits  of  life  and  the  experiences  that  deter- 
mine character  were  a  full  hemisphere  apart.  Their 
circumstances — the  father  of  a  considerable  family,  yet 
to  be  reared,  and  the  maid  v/ho  had  cared  for  children 
only  in  the  school-room — had  been  very  unlike.  Their 
spheres  of  labor  were  the  length  of  the  earth's  diame- 
ter asunder  and  essentially  dissimilar.  In  case  of  mar- 
riage one  vocation  must  be  surrendered  to  the  other, 
with  all  the  odds  on  the  side  of  the  man's.  She  must 
marry  for  love,  or  not  at  all. 

Religiously  and  denominationally  they  were  one  at 
heart;  yet  the  cause  which  was  consuming  him  had 
occupied  her  attention  but  slightly,  for  a  time,  dazed  as 
she  was  by  the  new  atmosphere  into  which  she  had 
been  ushered.  However,  her  early  sympathy  with 
missions  and  her  longing  to  engage  in  them  were  still 
traceable  in  her  memory,  and  the  mention  of  the  needs 
and  privations  abroad  still  affected  her  heart.  The 
difference  between  her  suitor's  and  her  own  interest  in 


76  KMIIvY   C.  JUDSON. 

the  work  for  the  heathen  was  mainly  that  of  degree. 
She  needed  no  reconciHng  to  such  a  cause. 

When  Dr.  Judson  discovered  the  germs  of  piety 
and  the  latent  interest  in  missions  that  she  very  natu- 
rally revealed  in  the  course  of  their  intervievv^s,  he  felt 
free  to  cherish  the  admiration  for  her  that  had  already 
taken  possession  of  his  mind.  And  when  he  felt  the 
fascinating  power  of  her  genius  he  became  convinced 
that  she  might  be  greatly  useful  in  the  missionary 
enterprise,  which  requires  diversified  gifts ;  as  he  said 
on  first  reading  her  "Trippings" — "a  lady  who  writes 
so  well  ought  to  write  better."  Circumstances,  like- 
wise, admitted  of  and,  in  some  respects,  called  for  mar- 
riage, and  so,  without  waiting  for  the  usual  period  of 
widowerhood  to  elapse,  he  came  forward  with  a  pro- 
posal and  urged  it  like  a  man  of  business. 

This  was  a  surprise ;  not  less  to  themselves  than  to 
others.  But  it  was  a  very  natural,  very  ingenuous 
movement.  As  she  once  said  concerning  the  origin  of 
her  poetry — "  it  whistled  itself."  And  when  once  made, 
the  proposition  was  to  be  pushed  to  a  successful  result. 
Dr.  Judson  was  not  the  man  to  stop  in  sight  of  a 
prize ;  and  Emily  Chubbuck  was  not  the  woman  to  be 
insensible  to  the  honor  he  sought  to  bestow  upon  her. 
But  he  was  thoroughly  honest  in  the  terms  of  the  pro- 
posal. Concealing  nothing,  varnishing  nothing,  he  told 
all.  "He  painted  to  her  the  glories  and  the  deformi- 
ties of  the  Orient;  its  moral  desert  in  a  wilderness  of 
luxuriant  beauty.  He  set  forth  the  toils  and  privations 
of  the  missionary's  lot,  and  over  against  this  the  privi- 
lege of  being  a  reaper  in  the  great  moral  harvest  of  the 
world;    the  blessedness  of  those  who  turn  many  to 


A    MKMORIAI,.  77 

righteousness ;  the  glory  of  that  coming  world  whence 
faith  already  draws  many  a  presaging  token  of  bliss." 

She,  on  the  other  hand,  was  equally  ingenuous ;  and 
the  sober  view  of  her  spiritual  condition  that  she  en- 
tertained added  a  charm  to  her  modesty.  She  knew 
piety  by  experience,  and  fully  appreciated  the  impor- 
tance of  a  very  large  measure  of  it  in  one  who  should 
presume  to  labor  for  the  heathen.  "She  weighed  her 
spiritual  deficiencies — her  want  of  that  deep  consecra- 
tion so  imperatively  demanded  in  one  who  lays  hands 
on  the  sacred  ark  of  the  missionary  cause.  She  had 
declined  from  her  earlier  consecration,  and  the  path 
which  she  once  sought  the  privilege  of  treading,  it 
now,  as  she  afterwards  declared,  'seemed  like  death 
for  her  to  enter.'" 

The  insertion  of  the  following  note,  just  here,  will 
be  pardoned  by  every  one  who  remembers  his  own 
trysting-place  and  the  letters  following: 

January  20,  1846. 

I  hand  you,  dearest  one,  a  charmed  watch.  It  always 
comes  back  to  me  and  brings  its  wearer  with  it.  I  gave  it 
to  Ann  when  a  hemisphere  divided  us,  and  it  brought  her 
safely  and  surely  to  my  arms.  I  gave  it  to  Sarah  during 
her  husband's  hfe-time,  (not  then  aware  of  the  secret,)  and 
the  charm,  though  slow  in  its  operation,  was  true  at  last. 

Were  it  not  for  the  sweet  sympathies  you  have  kindly 
extended  to  me,  and  the  blessed  understanding  that  "  love 
has  taught  us  to  guess  at,"  I  should  not  venture  to  pray 
you  to  accept  my  present  with  such  a  note.  Should  you 
cease  to  guess,  and  toss  back  the  article,  saying, "  Your 
watch  has  lost  its  charm  ;  it  comes  back  to  you,  but  bjHngs 

not  its  wearer  with  if' O,  first  dash  it  to  pieces,  that  it 

may  be  an  emblem  of  what  will  remain  of  the  heart  of 
Your  devoted  A.  Judson. 


78  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

The  reader  may  be  shocked  by  the  statement  that 
their  engagement  was  made  within  a  month  from  the 
time  of  their  first  meeting.  It  opened  the  opportunity 
for  testing  the  trite  remark,  "  Marry  in  haste  and  re- 
pent at  leisure";  and  the  testing  changed  the  senti- 
ment, showing  that  it  is  possible  to  contract  a  marriage 
hastily  and  wisely,  while  it  has  been  seen,  many  times, 
that  a  slow  and  much  protracted  courtship  has  ended 
in  failure  to  marry,  or  in  a  disastrous  marriage.  The 
aims  of  the  Christian  life  and  the  lofty  aims,  especially, 
of  the  true  missionary  were  a  security  against  the  in- 
fluences that  sometimes  prevail.  Besides,  they  had  the 
intelligence  to  discern  the  best  emotions  and  the  con- 
science to  follow  them. 

Under  these  conditions  their  marriage  did  not  re- 
solve itself  into  a  question  of  taste,  nor  one  of  time. 
Bach  was  qualified  to  appreciate  and  most  fully  to 
sympathize  with  the  other,  and  so  to  fulfill  the  law  of 
love.  They  were  counterparts  to  each  other,  and  could 
make  a  domestic  history  replete  with  rare  experiences 
and  in  harmonious  pursuits.  This  they  found  out  for 
themselves ;  and  having  reached  a  satisfactory  conclu- 
sion without  taking  " Mrs.  Grundy"  into  their  counsels, 
they  felt  that  they  could  also  settle  the  matter  of  time 
without  her  help. 

However,  the  same  high  considerations  were  in- 
volved in  a  prompt  marriage  that  actuated  them  in  the 
steps  already  taken.  There  were  motherless  children 
on  the  other  side  of  the  sea  ;  and  since  Emily  had  de- 
cided to  assume  the  post  of  motherhood  to  them,  the 
sooner  she  should  do  so  the  better.  There  was  also  the 
work  laid  down  by  Dr.  Judson.    Who  would  presume 


A   MEMORIAI,.  79 

to  take  up  the  master's  tools,  and  who  that  had  not  a 
suflScient  task  of  his  own  ?  After  devoting  to  it  more 
than  thirty  years,  the  best  of  his  Hfe,  without  the  least 
felt  drawing  toward  any  other,  his  heart  was  exclusive- 
ly enlisted  in  it.  He  must  return  to  it  with  all  the 
expedition  that  the  proprieties  of  the  case,  the  claims 
of  friends  and  churches  in  this  country,  w^ould  admit. 
Miss  Chubbuck's  engagement,  it  will  be  inferred, 
took  place  before  the  public  had  opportunity  to  dis- 
cuss the  possibility  or  the  propriety  of  it.  They  were 
the  more  dumfounded  on  that  account  when  told  of  it. 
No  one  lost  or  won  in  reputation  by  prophesying, 
though  the  nimble  tongue  that  is  ever  ready  to  predict 
such  a  circumstance  when  one  goes  into  new  society, 
may  have  gained  a  little  in  prestige.  The  Baptist 
denomination  might  have  been  chargeable  with  nap- 
ping, had  not  the  acquaintance  and  courtship  been  so 
brief.  Yet,  after  the  engagement  became  known  there 
was  no  napping  until  everybody's  opinion  had  been 
given. 


8o  KMIIvY   C.  JUDSON. 


VII. 

mHmp&e&—JVEW  ATTITL/DES,  OLD 
PATHS, 

Then  bring  thy  heart,  thy  life,  thy  soul,  thy  all, 
To  One  who  drank  for  thee  the  wormwood  and  the  gall. 

Mary  M.  Bowen. 

"  Measure  thy  life  by  loss  instead  of  gain  ; 
Not  by  the  wine  drunk,  but  by  the  wine  poured  forth ; 
For  love's  strength  standeth  in  love's  sacrifice, 
And  whoso  suffers  most  hath  most  to  give." 

MISS  CHUBBUCK  was  now  before  the  country  in 
a  new  attitude.  Her  startling  decision  had  run 
through  the  entire  circuit  of  her  readers  and  admirers 
with  an  electrical  thrill.  The  effect  at  first  was  uni- 
formly one  of  surprise,  and  then  of  varying  impres- 
sions as  to  the  fitness  of  the  whole  affair.  The  pillars 
in  the  mission  cause  trembled  lest  the  literary  sprite 
that  was  about  to  cross  the  threshold  of  the  temple 
would  prove  insufficient  for  the  solemn  responsibilities 
she  was  to  assume.  The  wiseacres  thought  they  saw 
the  end  of  Dr.  Judson's  usefulness.  And  the  literary 
men,  caring  for  none  of  these  things,  saw  Fanny  For- 
ester sacrificing  hosts  of  admirers  in  order  to  take  up 
the  cause  of  a  race  incapable  of  admiring  anything 
beautiful  and  good.  And  Mr.  Wallace  voiced  the  feel- 
ing of  the  selfish  world  in  expressing  the  wonder, — 


A    MEMORIAL.  8 1 

"  if  people  will  be  missionaries,  that  they  do  not  select 
'some  decent  place.'" 

She  was  sensitive  to  criticism,  especially  that  which 
came  from  her  friends ;  such  friends,  particularly,  as 
had  helped  her  in  the  hour  of  need  and  lifted  her  name 
out  of  obscurity.  These,  seemingly,  had  a  claim  to  the 
enjoyment  of  a  pen  they  had  so  neatly  feathered.  Their 
verdict  on  her  genius  had  proven  to  be  a  clear  indorse- 
ment of  their  wisdom ;  then  why  should  she  not  regard 
their  opinion  in  this  matter  above  her  own?  Why  go 
to  heathendom  when  they  expressed  the  conviction 
that  she  would  thus  throw  herself  away? 

Ah !  there  is  a  wisdom  not  according  to  this  world. 
The  natural  heart  discerns  it  not,  neither  regards  it. 
Miss  Chubbuck  had  long  before  received  the  things 
of  the  Spirit,  and  her  spiritual  sense  awakened  quickly 
at  the  word  of  one  who  had  already  proved  to  the 
world  that  the  best  type  of  greatness  is  compatible 
with  service  to  the  lowly,  and  in  that  servdce  shines 
with  greatest  lustre.  Between  the  two  calls  she  was 
bound  to  be  loyal  to  that  which  expressed  the  mind 
of  Him  who  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to 
minister  and  to  give  His  life  a  ransom  for  many. 

The  judgment  of  the  churches  was  more  deserving 
of  consideration  than  that  of  the  world,  and  it  doubt- 
less entered  into  her  deliberations  as  far  as  the  case 
justified.  She  was  respectful  but  determined.  She 
wanted  the  favor  of  her  friends,  and,  of  course,  wished 
them  to  coincide  with  her  plans.  What  was  her  joy 
when  Miss  Sheldon  favored  her  "wild-looking  project" 
and,  with  thoughtful  kindness,  wrote  to  her  parents  for 
the  purpose  of  preparing  their  minds  to  hear  of  it  spe- 
cifically— to  **  soften  the  matter,"  as  she  said. 


82  EMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

The  time  had  come  for  her  to  resign  her  place  in 
"  society,"  so  far  as  it  might  interfere  with  her  new 
duties  and  the  preparation  for  them.  This  brought  a 
test  to  bear,  to  which  she  was  fully  equal.  She  proved 
that,  though  thought  to  be  fond  of  gay  society,  and 
though  willing  to  heighten  such  an  impression  rather 
than  to  correct  it,  she  had  no  taste  for  it.  She  had 
practiced  a  similarly  innocent  deception,  of  an  opposite 
nature,  in  respect  to  her  religion;  innocent,  except  in 
its  effects  on  her  own  heart.  She  had  been  nicknamed 
at  school  "  the  little  saint,"  and  in  her  determination 
to  show  that  she  was  not  what  she  was  taken  to  be 
she  did  what  produced  "  a  low  state  of  religious  feel- 
ing." She  was  not  thoroughly  understood,  and  by 
some  was  much  misunderstood. 

That  she  was  more  fully  a  Christian  than  it  has 
been  supposed,  is  evident  from  the  gleam  that  comes 
from  the  above  confession.  Others  saw  the  marks  of 
piety  which  she  thought  to  deny  lest  she  might  be 
a  hypocrite.  Her  fugitive  articles  for  the  New  York 
Baptist  Register,  and  some  other  minor  writings  bore 
a  savor  of  piety  that  justified  her  name  as  a  Christian 
of  a  high  type;  but  it  was  "painful  to  be  praised  for 
such  things,"  she  said. 

The  number  is  not  small  that  will  discover  evidence 
of  the  real  Christian  in  the  manner  in  which  she  cared 
for  those  who  had  given  her  being  and  rearing.  And 
how  far  the  honoring  of  her  father  and  mother  con- 
tributed to  make  it  well  with  her  in  respect  to  her  new 
relationship,  perhaps  neither  she  nor  any  one  else  ever 
estimated.  It  would  be  highly  beneficial,  however,  for 
every  young  daughter  to  regard  her  example  and  re- 
member "  the  first  commandment  with  promise." 


A   MEMORIAL.  83 

One  qualification  for  the  missionary  life  is  the 
sense  of  its  difficulties  and  a  humble  spirit  in  the  one 
about  to  enter  upon  it.  And  it  could  not  for  a  mo- 
ment be  thought  that  such  a  veteran  as  Dr.  Judson 
would  fail  to  acquaint  her  with  all  she  needed  to 
know;  while  the  question  of  personal  fitness  would 
be  revolved  in  her  own  heart.  She  says :  "  I  have 
not  taken  this  step  without  a  great,  great  deal  of 
thought,  and  I  would  not  take  it  but  that  I  believe  the 
blessing  of  God  is  in  it.  I  must  acknowledge,  indeed, 
that  I  have  little  of  the  proper  missionary  spirit.  Per- 
haps it  will  increase ;  I  hope  so.  I  would  gladly  be 
useful,  and  this  has  influenced  me  very  much  in  my 
decision." 

Her  literary  friends,  though  dissatisfied  with  her 
decision,  passed  high  encomiums  on  her  general  char- 
acter, touching  points  that  they  had  not  expected  to  be 
called  upon  to  consider,  and  such  as  pertained  immedi- 
ately to  her  new  sphere.  Mr.  Wallace  had  written : 
"  If  you  should  ever  be  placed  in  circumstances  to  call 
it  forth,  the  world  will  find  that  there  is  stuff  for  a  her- 
oine hidden  behind  your  partial  development  by  litera- 
ture." In  this  unconscious  prophecy  he  voiced  the 
sentiment  of  the  entire  coterie  of  those  who  had  but 
just  come  to  know  her,  as  well  as  that  of  the  numerous 
friends  who  had  seen  her  manner  of  life.  She  had 
endured  enough  to  gain  the  gift  of  endurance.  She 
says  to  her  most  intimate  friend  and  adviser :  "  Even 
you  can  not  dream  of  half  that  I  have  borne." 

Miss  Chubbuck  was  now  left  to  her  own  thoughts 
— to  the  mental  seclusion  of  one  who  is  "engaged." 
The  transition  from  the  whirl  of  magazine  people  to 


84  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

the  exclusive  society  of  a  suitor,  and  the  equally  sud- 
den change  from  his  constant  visitations  to  solitari- 
ness in  her  chamber  was  quite  an  experience  to  pass 
through  in  thirty  days.  Dr.  Judson  was  a  man  of 
despatch,  and  a  man  in  demand.  When  he  had  closed 
his  contract  with  her,  and  his  engagements  with  the 
churches,  he  went  to  Washington,  bearing  within  his 
heart  the  joyous  hope  of  a  renewed  domestic  life.  The 
tender  and  beautiful  letters  he  wrote  her  immediately 
after  his  departure  have  sometimes,  but  rarely,  been 
equaled.  Her  heart  was  additionally  wrought  upon  by 
this  means,  and  he  found  in  her  his  full  complement 
as  a  correspondent,  and  a  "  better  half"  indeed. 

The  pen  she  had  been  using  was  now  resting,  as 
she  gave  herself  to  a  contemplation  of  the  future.  A 
great  service  was  before  her,  from  which  there  could 
be  no  discharge  except  by  death.  There  were  friends 
to  be  conciliated,  and  extensive  preparations  to  be 
made.  And  after  securing  the  desired  composure  of 
mind,  heroine  that  she  really  was,  she  became  anxious 
to  meet  the  new  conditions  at  once.  What  should  she 
say  to  the  many,  and  to  the  few?  How  explain  her 
course  to  those  to  whom  she  had  committed  herself 
for  study  and  teaching?  How  produce  satisfaction  in 
that  dependent  family  at  Hamilton  ? 

Fortunately  she  was  detained  by  the  severity  of 
the  winter  from  going  north,  for  a  few  weeks.  This 
circumstance  enabled  her  to  notify  her  friends  as  to 
the  engagement,  and  by  the  lapse  of  time  to  enable 
them  to  attain  some  degree  of  quietness,  and  to  pre- 
pare to  greet  her  without  indiscreet  and  harmful  re- 
marks.    But,  being  fully  committed,  she  was  impatient 


A   MEMORIAI,.  85 

for  whatever  fray  might  be  awaiting  her,  that  she 
might  end  it,  and  for  the  adjustment  of  her  affairs 
preparatory  to  departure  for  the  East. 

On  the  17th  of  February  (1846)  she  proceeded  to 
New  York,  and  thence  to  Utica.  In  New  York  she  was 
entertained  by  the  Colgates ;  a  Baptist  half-way  house 
of  the  old  hospitable  type.  She  was  now  traveling  as 
a  prospective  missionary.  O,  the  change  in  eighteen 
months  ! — from  the  gay  American  metropolis  to  "grim 
Burmah"!  from  balzarines  to  barbarians! — the  first 
transition  in  the  mind  of  the  unformed  missionary.  Is 
the  young  novelist  dreaming!  Is  she  taking  up  the 
glories  of  the  Orient  for  the  warp  of  a  new  story,  or 
is  she  designing  a  romance  of  personal  reality?  She 
passes  one  night  and  rises  to  address  her  afl&anced  as 
follows:  "There  is  something  so  unreal  (sometimes) 
in  the  position  in  which  I  find  myself  that  reflection 
becomes  absolutely  painful ;  and  I  am  half  tempted  to 
doubt  my  own  identity.  But,  like  the  old  woman  of 
the  nursery  rhyme,  I  hope  home  will  dissipate  the 
mist.  They  will  make  it  all  real  when  I  get  to  Utica, 
for  they  seem  to  think  it  a  very  proper  thing  for  me  to 
become  a  missionary.  I  thought  it  a  very  nice  thing, 
too,  when  I  went  to  my  room  last  night  and  laid  my 
head  upon  my  pillow,  perfectly  happy.  Things  were 
reversed.  The  bugbears  haunted  me  in  the  day-time, 
and  at  night  they  fled." 

She  proceeded  to  Utica  without  delay,  and  was 
once  more  at  home  among  the  teachers  and  pupils  at 
the  Seminary,  who  already  felt  a  deep  interest  in  her 
new  plans,  and  proposed  to  assume  the  main  responsi- 
bility for  her  outfit.     It  was  their  first  experience  with 


86  KMII,Y   C.  JUDSON. 

missionary  departures,  no  doubt,  and  the  delightful 
subject  in  hand  and  the  freshness  of  the  enterprise 
conspired  to  furnish  them  an  enjoyable  entertainment. 
How  ready  were  the  unskilled  "girls "to  "lend  a 
hand"! — how  they  flew  to  and  fro  to  provide  raiment 
and  comforts  for  the  singer  who  was  to  go  away  over 
the  sea! 

Early  in  March  Emily  went  to  Hamilton  for  such 
an  experience  as  she  had  never  had  at  home.  She  was 
now  a  bird  spoken  for  and  captured.  Already  she  felt 
the  bars  of  her  cage,  but  loved  them  well.  With  a  new 
development  of  affection  she  met  her  friends,  feeling 
that  she  was  another  and  another's.  She  could  not 
enter  into  family  affairs  in  just  the  way  she  had  done. 
The  broaching  of  her  new  plans  and  the  consideration 
of  them  were  to  engross  the  time.  Dr.  Judson  came 
on  presently,  and  the  formation  of  acquaintance  entered 
largely  into  the  visit.  All  felt  honored  by  the  pros- 
pective relationship ;  Dr.  Judson  not  less  than  the  fam- 
ily, because  the  parents  of  a  "  child  of  genius  and  of 
song"  are  rare  and  respected.  "  The  loggery,"  as  Em- 
ily named  their  domicile,  was  made  sacred,  first  by  the 
hard-earned  money  she  had  put  into  it,  and  further  by 
the  presence  of  the  great  missionary  of  the  age. 

Glances  at  a  few  of  her  letters  will  serve  to  show 
the  modest,  sensible  views  that  she  entertained: 

To  Mr.  Wallace :  "  I  am  a  great  admirer  of  great- 
ness— real,  genuine  greatness;  and  goodness  has  an 
influence  which  I  have  not  the  power  to  resist.  I  be- 
lieve the  reason  that  I  have  never  loved  before  (for  I 
think  that  I  have  a  somewhat  loving  nature)  is,  that 
I  never  saw  the  two  so  beautifully  combined  in  one 


A   MKMORIAI,.  87 

person.  My  good  Doctor's  hair  is  as  black  as  the 
raven's  wing  yet ;  but  if  it  were  not,  if  he  were  many 
years  older,  it  would  be  all  the  same ;  I  would  go  with 
him  the  world  over.  There  is  a  noble  structure  with- 
in, singularly  combining  delicacy  and  strength,  which 
will  afiford  me  protection  and  shelter  in  this  world — a 
place  where  my  own  weak  nature  may  rest  itself  se- 
curely— a  thing  that  will  never  grow  old,  and  that  I 
shall  love  in  eternity.  *  *  *  *  Do  you  think 
that  I  am  carried  away  by  a  foolish  enthusiasm — a 
false  zeal?  Or  do  you  think  that  I  have  made  a 
sober,  common-sense  estimate  of  things,  and  decided 
wisely?" 

To  Mrs.  Nott:  "I  fancy  that  you  will  be  pretty 
sure  that  no  common  man  could  have  made  a  mission-, 
ary  of  me;  and  no  common  man  would  have  had  the 
independence  to  choose  me." 

To  Dr.  Judson:  "You  freed  me  from  a  glittering 
coil  which  was  growing  irksome  to  me,  and  you  are  to 
be  my  spiritual  teacher." 

From  Mr.  Wallace :  "  Your  choice  is  worthy  of  you. 
It  commends  itself  to  my  highest  sympathy  and  admi- 
ration. You  may  recollect  that  I  said  to  you,  at  the 
time  when  I  could  not  be  suspected  of  a  design  to  flat- 
ter, that  Dr.  Judson  was  one  of  my  heroes ;  that  good- 
ness, such  as  his,  was  the  highest  type  of  greatness — 
far  surpassing  all  such  ambition  as  is  founded  on  views 
that  are  limited  by  this  world,  and  beating  down  the 
rivalry  of  such  fame  as  has  in  it  any  admixture  of  van- 
ity. It  produces  no  wonder  in  me,  but  the  highest 
interest  and  delight,  to  know  that  your  spirit  is  so 
finely  sensitive  to  the  lofty  attractions  that  belong  to 


88  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

a  character  and  career  so  disinterested — so  sublime. 
That  which  first  engaged  my  regard  and  curiosity  in 
relation  to  you  was  the  fascinating  delicacy  of  thought 
and  feeling  which  your  writings  displayed;  what 
struck  me  most,  in  approaching  you  more  nearly, 
and  placed  my  respect  upon  a  higher  and  surer  basis, 
was  the  superiority  which  your  nature  insensibly  al- 
ways displayed  to  the  interests  and  excitements  of 
literary  reputation.  That  'pettiness  of  fame'  which 
is  the  glory  of  so  many,  seemed  to  excite  your  aver- 
sion;  and  that  which,  in  other  cases,  is  the  coveted 
result  of  authorship,  seemed  to  be  to  you  the  only 
annoying  and  painful  part  of  it." 

After  ten  days  at  Hamilton — his  first  visit  to  that 
classic  village,  so  entrancing  in  its  natural  loveliness, 
and  so  honored  as  the  main  educator  of  missionaries — 
Dr.  Judson  journeyed  eastward  to  attend  to  personal 
affairs,  and  to  the  lyord's  business  which  required 
haste.  Miss  Chubbuck  returned  to  Utica,  and  the 
preparation  for  her  departure  very  soon  became  the 
engrossing  subject  of  all  minds  in  the  institution.  She 
had  ''  softened  the  matter"  with  the  folks  at  home,  and 
was  beyond  that  sensitive  point  which  stands  in  the 
way  of  a  daughter's  free  communication  of  her  love 
affairs  to  her  parents.  Dr.  Judson  had  been  present, 
and  by  his  manly  bearing  rendered  relief  in  her  em- 
barrassment. 

Her  engagement  was  an  event  involving  peculiar 
consequences  to  the  Chubbucks.  After  the  surprise 
it  gave,  came  not  a  little  solicitude  on  account  of  its 
bearing  upon  the  interests  of  the  family.  As  their 
main  dependence  she  was  now  to  be  missed,  and  how 


A   MKMORIAI,.  Sg 

to  meet  the  deficiency  thus  created  was  a  problem  to 
be  studied.  No  one  could  fill  her  place,  because  there 
was  no  one  among  them  having  a  genius  for  remuner- 
ative work  or  for  commanding  resources.  She  had 
gone  beyond  the  point  of  present  supplies  and  had 
devised  a  way  of  reducing  expenses  by  buying  a  home 
for  them.  Very  naturally  other  members  of  the  family 
had  not  become  disciplined  in  care  and  tact  to  the 
same  extent  if  at  all.  How  was  she  to  be  spared? 
Must  not  the  home  be  lost,  and  parents  and  children 
be  scattered? 

These  questions  troubled  herself  as  well  as  the 
others.  Her  expected  departure  from  the  country,  so 
far  from  relieving  her  of  the  responsibility  served  to 
intensify  the  sense  of  it,  and  to  arouse  the  heroic  ele- 
ments of  her  being.  Immediately  upon  her  engage- 
ment she  writes  to  Miss  Sheldon:  "I  have  several 
debts  at  Utica,  and  I  am  anxious  to  get  back  and  see 
about  them.  I  do  not  know  exactly  my  resources,  but 
I  know  they  are  in  a  pretty  bad  state.  For  this  reason 
I  have  declined  going  on  to  Washington,  and  am  very 
anxious  to  return  to  Utica.  I  do  not  even  know  just 
how  much  is  due  on  my  place.  I  shall  have  enough  to 
make  out  my  April  payment,  but  beyond  that  I  am 
very  destitute.  I  shall  collect  all  my  '  Fanny  Forester' 
stories,  and  make  as  good  a  bargain  as  I  can." 

Dr.  Judson  sympathized  most  heartily  in  these 
trials,  and  he  so  far  retracted  his  "rather  ungallant 
exhortation,"  made  at  their  first  meeting,  as  to  en- 
courage her  to  trust  to  him  for  help  and  to  continue 
writing  books.  From  his  chamber  in  Mr.  Colby's 
house,  Boston,  after  a  ''good  cry,"  (having  sent  oft  his 


90  KMII<Y   C.  JUDSON. 

two  sons  crying,  to  Worcester,  the  day  before,)  he 
writes:  "My  pecuniary  arrangements  are  such  that 
we  shall  have  an  ample  sufficiency  for  all  our  pur- 
poses, and  enough  to  furnish  your  parents  with  what 
they  may  think  necessary;  so  that  you  can  write  as 
much  or  as  little  as  you  choose ;  and  if  you  take  any 
remuneration  you  can  have  the  pleasure  of  presenting 
it,  through  the  mission  treasury,  as  an  expression  of 
gratitude  to  Him  who  gave  his  life  for  you,  and  is 
now  preparing  your  seat  and  your  crown." 

Miss  Chubbuck,  now  at  Utica,  is  busy  with  her 
friends  preparing  for  the  voyage.  School  days  are 
changed  to  preparation  days.  Morning  bells  have  the 
tone  of  wedding  bells.  Those  who  had  sat  in  awe  be- 
fore the  teacher  now  clustered  at  her  feet  to  do  her 
service.  She  was  strangely  affected  by  the  new  condi- 
tions which  had  come  to  pass.  She  wrote :  "I  have  been 
through  with  a  terrible  scene  to-day.  I  was  induced 
to  go  into  the  school-room  for  an  hour,  and  such  sob- 
bings !     I  haven't  got  the  tears  out  of  my  eyes  yet." 

A  month  passes  and  Dr.  Judson  returns  from  the 
eastern  states  and  makes  a  visit  at  Utica.  He  and 
Miss  Chubbuck  proceed  thence  to  Hamilton  and  make 
a  more  complete  and  satisfying  visit  there,  looking  at 
the  homes  and  haunts  of  her  girlhood.  It  is  the 
month  of  May,  in  which  Alderbrook  and  the  Chenan- 
go Valley  put  on  their  new  verdure  and  charm  the 
beholder  in  a  way  and  to  a  degree  surpassing  the 
reader's  imagination.  A  paragraph  from  Dr.  Ken- 
drick's  "Life  and  Letters  "  will  indicate  how  our  hero- 
ine availed  herself  of  the  last  opportunity  to  trace  her 
own  trippings  and  to  introduce  the  hero  of  her  heart 


A   MEMORIAL.  9^ 

to  scenes  entirely  new  to  him,  but  which  were  hence- 
forth to  enter  into  his  own  experience : 

Dr.  Judson  and  Emily  visited  together  her  early  home 
in  Eaton.     Dr.  Judson  had  read  her  description  of  Under- 
hill  Cottage  in  the  "  Trippings,"  and  he  remembered  the 
invitation  there  given  to  the  reader  to  come  and  survey  its 
beauties,  with  herself  for  his   cicerone,  when  it  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  laughing  beauty  of  spring.     This  invita- 
tion he  now  felt  irresistibly  inclined  to  accept,  and  Emily, 
probably,  was  not  disposed  to  recall  it.     They  visited  the 
hallowed  spot  together ;    took  tea  in  Underbill  Cottage ; 
and  wandered  at  leisure  by  the  stream  which,  fringed  with 
alders,  gave  to  the  subsequent  collection  of  her  sketches 
its  graceful  and  appropriate  name.     Fancy  may  be  excused 
for  lingering  a  moment  on  the  scene  in  which  two  such 
spirits— the  one  full  of  the  warm  affections,  the  fresh  hopes, 
the  bright  fancies  of  youth  and  youthful  genius— the  other 
that  of  one  who  had  filled  a  hemisphere  and  a  half  century 
with  his  deeds  of  sublime  Christian  devotion,  but  whose 
genial  character  time  had  but  touched  with  a  mellow  grace 
—in  which  they  together  visited  the  spot  which  had  wit- 
nessed the  early  joys  and  sorrows  of  the  fair  and  gifted 
being  who  was  soon  to  lay  her  hand  in  his,  and  share  his 
fortunes  on  the  other  side  of  the  globe.     What  memories 
of  the  past,  what  visions,  chastened  yet  joyful,  of  the  future, 
throng  upon  those  spirits,  both  of  which  have  drunk  deep 
of  the  cup  of  sorrow,  and  know  well  the  stern  realities  of 
life,  and  yet  both  of  which  possess  within   a  permanent 
well-spring  of  joy  and  hope,  such  as  God  bestows  only  on 
the  favored  few !    With  what  touching  pathos  did  Emily 
recount  the  childish  memories  with  which  each  scene  was 
associated— the  memories  of  joys— O  how  sweet !  and  of 
griefs — O  how  bitter ! 


92  KMILY    C.  JUDSON. 

While  under  the  charm  of  the  vSequestered  vale, 
and  while  recalling  the  sad  circumstances  and  also  the 
joyous  experiences  of  early  days,  as  contained  in  the 
first  part  of  this  narrative,  it  will  be  instructive  to 
dwell  a  moment  upon  the  literary  affairs  of  Miss  Chub- 
buck  at  this  time.  From  being  a  young  scribbler 
before  the  old  hearth-fire,  amidst  the  family  circling 
before  it,  ("shivering  on  one  side  while  toasting  the 
other,")  and  from  the  humiliation  that  was  absolute- 
ly oppressive,  she  has  risen  to  rank  and  recognition 
among  the  popular  writers  of  the  time.  Now  she  has 
her  writings  on  hand,  when  about  to  leave  the  country 
for  a  permanent  residence,  and  the  disposition  of  them 
to  good  advantage  becomes  a  new  and  unexpected 
source  of  anxiety. 

Various  publishers  were  snatching  and  shaping 
them  for  immediate,  catch-penny  purposes.  A  pict- 
ure of  a  female  with  her  name  beneath  it  was  embla- 
zoned on  the  cover  of  an  abridged  copy,  exciting  Dr. 
Judson's  humor  and  her  ire.  Like  other  popular 
writers,  in  similar  circumstances,  she  determined  to 
seek  benefit  through  the  law.  But  better  counsels 
prevailed,  especially  Dr.  Judson's  sober  suggestion  that 
the  multiplication  of  editions  and  parts  of  books  might 
enable  her  to  be  more  useful ;  to  "  soften  and  cleanse 
and  prepare,  it  may  be,  for  higher  and  more  spiritual  in- 
fluences." He  united  his  efforts  to  hers  in  an  earnest 
endeavor  to  make  a  speedy  adjustment  of  her  literary 
relations,  so  that  she  might  leave  the  country  at  peace 
with  all,  and  with  her  writings  in  remunerative  hands. 
After  various  futile  attempts  a  satisfactory  arrange- 
ment was  effected,  Mr.  N.  P.  Willis  rendering  assist- 


A   MEMORIAL.  93 

ance  by  giving  introductions  to  the  leading  printing 

firms. 

The  settlement  of  claims  against  her  property  in 
Hamilton  was  also  effected,  Dr.  Judson  assisting.  He 
wrote  her:  "  You  can  arrange  for  the  purchase  of  the 
additional  lot,  if  you  please,  for  $300,  before  I  come, 
and  for  the  fence  at  $50.  I  shall  be  able  to  let  you 
have  as  much  of  the  sum  appropriated  for  your  outfit, 
that  is,  $200,  as  you  may  wish.  The  $300  for  myself 
I  have  declined." 

She  showed  the  utmost  cordiality  toward  Dr.  Jud- 
son's  children,  and  desired  to  assist  in  every  way  prac- 
ticable in  their  rearing   and  education.     To  this  end 
she  proposed  to  take  the  daughter  back  to  Burmah, 
and  there  give  her  religious  nurture  and  intellectual 
training ;  actuated  by  a  wish  to  make  her  father  the 
more  happy  and  to  subserve  the  greatest  good  of  the 
child.     She  said  in  a  letter  to  him,  previous  to  their 
marriage:  *' She  is  your  only  daughter;  you  love  her 
so  much,  and  it  will  be  so  hard  for  the  little  creature 
to  stay  behind.     And  you  may  be   assured   that   she 
shall  not   lack  for  any  good  which   I  am  capable  of 
exerting.     I  know  the  point  where  I  should  be  most 
likely  to  fail;    but   I   would   pray  most   earnestly  to 
exert    a    healthful,  religious   influence.     And  how   I 
should   love  to  have  the  training  of  her  active  little 
mind !     I  would   pursue  a  regular  system  of  instruc- 
tion ;  give  daily  book  lessons,  besides  the  other  lessons 
which  we   could   extract   from   things   about   us.     It 
would  be  something   of  a  task,  certainly,  but  a  very 
agreeable   one,  and   one  which,  doubtless,  would  con- 
tribute to  my  own  improvement.     *     *     *     -^^     Dare 


94  EMILY  C.  JUDSON. 

not  trust  Abby  with  me,  eb?  Ah!  you  don't  know 
how  wise  and  dignified  I  can  be  when  occasion 
requires  it.  Not  one  of  my  pupils  was  surprised  at 
the  news  of  my  purpose  to  become  a  missionary."  * 

*Abby,  it  is  known,  did  not  return  to  Burmah.  Arriving  in  this 
country  just  at  the  close  of  her  tenth  year,  she  was  placed  in  good  hands, 
was  educated,  and  has  been  a  teacher  of  high  character.  She  is  now  at 
the  head  of  Judson  Institute,  Minneapolis,  Minn. 


A  MEMORIAI,.  95 

VIII. 

'!^axvia^t— ADIEUS,  ocean,  orient, 

I  thank  thee  for  the  languid  years 

Of  loneliness  and  pain, 
When  flesh  and  spirit  sowed  in  tears, 

But  scattered  not  in  vain  ; 
For  trust  in  God  and  faith  in  man 

Sprang  up  beneath  the  rain. 

*  *  *  « 

Lord,  keep  me  closer  at  thy  side 

As  life  the  sweeter  grows, 
Lest  I  forget  in  this  content 

The  thorns  beneath  the  rose. 

Rose  Terry  Cooke—'*  Thanksgiving." 

^npHE  time  for  the  consummation  of  her  marriage 
-^  hastened  on.  As  she  contemplated  the  new  rela- 
tion, with  its  honors  and  opportunities,  she  could  but 
wish  that  Time  would  not  be  tardy,  and  that  she  might 
be  relieved  from  the  embarrassments  of  her  fame,  and 
be  sheltered  under  the  strong  name  of  her  "  good  Doc- 
tor." On  the  other  hand,  there  were  the  old  home, 
and  the  "  old  folks  at  home."  Far  hence  the  day  of 
parting  and  tears  !  The  mention  of  the  ship,  she  said, 
"  sent  her  heart  down  into  her  shoes." 

The  day  was  reached.  It  was  in  the  bonny  month 
of  June,  her  favorite  season,  of  which  she  had  written 
in  glowing  numbers  ten  years  before: 


96  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

"  'Tis  June — 'tis  gladsome,  gorgeous  June, 
The  rich,  warm  flush  of  summer  noon 
Rests  on  the  golden  hills." 

The  flowers  were  out  in  full,  bedecking  the  village, 
and  with  their  beauty  responding  to  the  inviting  rays 
of  the  sun.  Nature  did  the  decorating  for  the  memo- 
rable  nuptial  occasion,  and  thus,  with  its  affluence, 
came  to  the  relief  of  the  family.  The  arrangements 
were  simple,  as  befitted  the  event;  the  company  pri- 
vate, consisting  only  of  the  family,  and  Miss  Sheldon 
and  Miss  Anable,  of  Utica,  whom  the  bride  regarded 
as  fulfilling  the  office  of  sisters  to  her  in  an  eminent 
degree.  The  venerable  Dr.  Nathaniel  Kendrick,  who 
had  known  her  missionary  aspirations  from  their  ori- 
gin, and  who  at  this  time  was  languishing  under  a 
fatal  disease,  arose  from  his  couch,  a  few  steps  away, 
and  went  in  and  performed  the  rite  which  determined 
one  of  the  closest  and  sincerest  marriage  bonds  ever 
formed. 

The  bridal  day,  which  was  June  2,  1846,  naturally 
extended  to  a  bridal  occasion  of  some  days'  duration. 
"  Dr.  Judson  and  his  bride  spent  three  or  four  days 
with  her  parents,  exchanging  greetings  with  their 
numerous  friends,  and  accepting  their  hospitalities. 
It  was  to  many  a  memorable  occasion.  Mrs.  Judson's 
quiet  dignity  and  simplicity  of  manner,  the  joy  of  sat- 
isfied and  happy  love  sparkling  in  her  eye,  yet  tem- 
pered by  the  shadow  of  her  near  and  final  parting  from 
those  whom  she  loved,  lent  to  her  an  added  charm  ; 
while  Dr.  Judson,  with  renovated  health  and  buoyant 
spirits,  casting  off  all  reserve,  gave  loose  rein  to  his 
matchless   powers   of  captivation,  and   made   himself 


A   MEMORIAI,.  97 

the  life  and  soul  of  many  delighted  circles." — (^Ken- 
drick.) 

The  first  Sabbath  of  their  new  life  was  spent  in  the 
city  of  Utica,  and  embraced  some  peculiar  and  delight- 
ful experiences.  They  were  amid  the  scenes  of  Mrs. 
Judson's  seminary  and  church-life  for  the  six  previous 
years,  where  supports  for  her  courage  and  stimulus  for 
her  endeavors  had  been  received,  and  where  they  were 
now  the  observed  of  all  observers ;  she  in  the  flush  of 
her  triumph  over  circumstances,  and  he  the  modest 
victor  on  heathen  fields,  in  the  realm  of  language,  liter- 
ature and  religion.  Curiosity  gave  way  to  honor,  and 
criticism  to  cordial,  Christian  affection. 

A  circumstance  rendering  the  day  a  hallowed  one 
to  Mrs.  Judson,  was  the  baptism  of  her  "most  intimate 
and  sympathizing  friend,"  Miss  Anable,  who  had  been 
a  Presbyterian.  Because  of  her  sisterly  regard  for  his 
wife,  with  other  reasons.  Miss  Anable  desired  Dr.  Jud- 
son to  administer  the  ordinance.  He  complied  with 
the  request,  immersing  her  in  the  Mohawk  river,  and 
forward,  which  he  believed  to  be  the  original  and 
proper  way.  This  was  the  only  baptism  he  ever 
administered  in  America. 

In  her  farewell  to  the  churches  with  which  she  had 
been  connected,  Mrs.  Judson  thus  refers  to  the  one  at 
Utica : 

''There  is  another  church  with  which  I  have  a 
more  intimate  connection — the  one  whose  commenda- 
tion I  bear  to  a  strange  people  in  a  strange  land,  but 
worshiping  no  strange  God.  There  are  to  me  no 
dearer  ones  on  earth  than  a  little  circle  at  Utica,  with 
whom  I  have  hoped  and  feared,  rejoiced  and  wept  and 


98  EMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

prayed.  God  grant  that  I  may  join  that  same  circle 
above !  that  the  tremulous  voice  which  thousands  of 
times  has  borne  a  confession  of  our  sins  and  tollies  up 
to  our  Intercessor  I  may  hear  again  in  songs  of  praise ; 
that  when  the  thin,  gray  hairs  are  brightened,  and  the 
heavy  foot  made  swift  and  light,  I  may  return  heaven- 
ly love  for  the  counsels  to  which  I  have  so  often  list- 
ened. I  do  not  ask  to  be  remembered  there,  for  I 
know  that  parting  in  person  can  not  mar  the  union  of 
spirit,  and  when  my  hand  is  strong,  and  my  heart  is 
light,  when  Christ  confers  upon  me  any  peculiar  bless- 
ing, I  shall  think  that  Deacon  Sheldon  and  those 
who  love  him  and  me  are  praying  for  me." 

What  a  blessing  for  a  young  missionary  to  carry 
away — the  benediction  of  such  a  godly  man  and  the 
remembrance  of  his  intercessions  at  a  throne  of  grace ! 
If  churches  would  but  search  out  the  sensitive,  suscep- 
tible, pining  hearts  in  their  membership,  and  if,  indi- 
vidually, they  would  bear  them  in  prayer  continually 
and  within  their  hearing,  there  would  be  more  deacon 
Sheldons  to  be  gratefully  remembered,  and  more  hero- 
ines made  for  heathen  climes, 

Mrs.  Judson  had  bidden  adieu  to  Hamilton,  and  it 
was  left  to  the  "  little  circle  at  Utica"  to  complete  the 
home  outfit  and  to  speed  her  on  the  way.  Her  part- 
ing, as  well  as  her  position,  was,  in  some  degree,  re- 
lieved of  its  painful  nature  by  the  company  of  another 
lady.  Miss  I^ydia  Lillybridge,  who  had  been  associated 
with  her  in  teaching  in  the  Seminary,  was  designated 
as  a  missionary  associate.  The  little  party,  an  object 
of  more  intense  interest  than  a  similar  company  would 
be  now,  took  final  leave  of  teachers,  pupils  and  Chris- 


A    MEMORIAL.  99 

tian  friends  at  Utica,  after  a  few  days,  and  proceeded 
eastward. 

Mrs.  Judson  was  brought  to  face  some  things  that 
were  quite  trying  to  her.  Her  husband  took  her  to 
his  paternal  home,  and  to  Ann  Hasseltine's  old  home 
at  Bradford,  where  she  met  Abby  and  the  remaining 
friends  of  the  pioneer  heroine.  The  atmosphere  was 
still  laden  with  the  incense  of  that  wonderful  life  that 
went  out  in  Burmah,  and  fragrant  though  it  was,  there 
was  a  felt  sense  of  oppressiveness  in  the  poet  heroine 
as  she  meekly  drew  the  inevitable  comparison.  But  she 
could  plead  that  she  had  not  sought  the  other's  place 
nor  her  prerogatives,  and  this  fact  dulled  the  sting.  A 
parting  with  Abby,  and  the  tears  of  him  whose  heart 
she  was  obligated  to  cheer ;  the  freshness  of  the  sorrow 
at  St.  Helena,  and  the  beautiful  virtues  of  her  whom 
she  was  expected  to  memorialize ;  the  anticipated  mis- 
sionary meeting  at  Boston,  at  which  she  must  appear 
as  "  the  successor  of  two  such  women  " — these  were 
circumstances  calculated  to  test  the  heroine  of  the 
woolen  factory  and  the  country  school  and  New  York 
snows  in  a  new  way,  and  which  might  well  have 
called  forth  some  deserved  charity. 

The  formalities  of  the  farewell  receptions  could  not 
altogether  assure  her  as  to  the  degree  of  popular  re- 
gard. Whether  the  people  were  through  with  their 
criticisms  on  Dr.  Judson  because  of  his  choice,  and 
how  she  was  viewed  in  comparison  with  the  dead,  she 
could  not  certainly  decide.  How  frequently  she  may 
have  wiped  away  the  furtive  tear  no  one  knows.  But 
it  is  clear  that  to  have  her  husband  to  herself,  and  to 
stand  firmly  at  his  side,  amid  his  toils,  and  perform 


lOO  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

the  part  of  one  designated  and  pledged  to  aid  in 
the  conversion  of  the  heathen,  in  the  use  of  her 
own  talent — this  would  be  absolute  felicity  when 
contrasted  with  the  unsolved  compliments  of  farewell 
recognitions. 

Receiving  attentions  became  a  tax  that  must  be 
paid.  Something  was  due  to  the  denomination,  and 
more  to  her  husband,  who  was  one  of  its  greatest  rep- 
resentatives, and  who  was  entitled  to  all  they  were 
receiving  from  it.  Hence  she  endured  patiently ;  and 
two  days  before  sailing  wrote  her  sister  as  follows :  "  I 
meant  to  have  written  you  before,  but  if  you  could 
know  what  a  siege  I  have  had !  I  have  been  crowded 
almost  to  death  with  company.  Sometimes  my  hand 
has  been  so  swollen  with  constant  shaking  that  I  have 
not  been  able  to  get  on  a  glove,  and  I  have  been 
obliged  to  use  my  left  hand." 

Before  the  embarkment,  those  literary  persons  who 
had  fostered  her  genius,  and  who  were  so  chagrined 
because  she  "would  be  a  missionary,"  would  throw 
herself  away,  not  even  "selecting  a  decent  place," 
made  haste  to  unite  with  the  churches  in  bestowing 
upon  her  attentions  and  gifts.  Such  men  as  Willis, 
Prescott,  Longfellow  and  Bancroft,  the  latter  at  the 
time  a  member  of  the  President's  Cabinet,  were  among 
the  givers.  The  following  from  Mr.  Willis  deserves  a 
place  in  these  pages  : 

Washington,  June  26,  1846. 

Your  letter  enclosing  the  money  for  books  I  received 
only  yesterday  from  Boston,  with  two  for^vardings,  and 
to-day  comes  this,  written  as  you  left  Utica.  I  re-enclose 
the  money,  for  the  books  can  be  had  without  it.     I  spoke 


A    MKMORIAI,.  lOI 

to  Secretary  Bancroft  at  a  party  last  night,  and  he  was, 
of  course,  proud  of  the  opportunity  to  present  you  with 
his  books,  and  so  will  be  Prescott  and  Longfellow — and 
myself.  I  shall  make  you  up  a  box  of  books  from  my 
own  stores  to  take  with  you,  and  I  shall  be  in  Boston 
when  you  sail,  and  see  you,  with  a  tearful  God-speed,  off 
the  shore.  Will  you  write  me  at  what  time  precisely 
you  will  be  in  Boston  ? 

In  view  of  what  was  said  and  felt,  and  of  what  may 
be  thought  by  some  at  this  day,  concerning  the  fitness 
of  her  marriage  and  appointment,  another  paragraph 
from  the  above  letter  is  given,  showing  the  sentiments 
of  the  writer  after  mature  reflection : 

The  more  I  think  of  your  marriage,  the  more  I  think 
you  are  doing  the  best  for  your  happiness.  Your  husband 
has  a  prodigal  largeness  of  nature,  and  the  kindest  and 
most  affectionate  of  hearts ;  and  you  required  a  trjang 
and  unusual  destiny  to  fill  the  capabilities  of  which  late 
years  have  seen  the  dangerous  formation.  Both  for  your 
heart  and  your  peculiar  mind,  therefore,  Providence  has 
sent  you  the  needful  scope,  and  you  will  be  happj^  Dr. 
Judson's  errand  abroad  will  soon  draw  on  j^our  volcanic 
enthusiasm,  and  the  vent  will  be  healthful  to  soul  and 
body.  With  love  satisfied  and  talents  emplo37ed,  change 
of  climate  and  improved  health,  you  will  bless  God  for  a 
merciful  direction  of  your  destiny. 

The  woman  was  no  ordinary  person  who,  in  the 
opinion  of  such  a  keen  observer,  "  required  a  trying 
and  unusual  destiny  to  fill  the  capabilities  of  her 
nature."  Could  a  more  sententious  phrase  be  formed 
to  express,  though  indirectly,  the  "stuff"  necessary  to 
a  missionary  character?  The  calling  to  the  missionary 
work   consists,  in  part,  in  an  aptitude  for  the   grave 


I02  EMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

responsibilities  and  crucial  severities  of  the  field.  If 
Mrs.  Judson  had  been  long  spared  for  the  service,  in 
connection  with  her  husband,  she  would  have  proven 
that  the  tribulations  of  her  early  days  were  both  pro- 
phetic and  preparatory  to  heroic  endeavors  of  a  high 
order. 

To  close  these  references  a  paragraph  from  that 
"  refined,  high-bred,  delicate  and  manly "  gentleman, 
Mr.  H.  B.  Wallace,  who  was  one  of  the  first  to  recog- 
nize Emily's  genius,  is  here  adduced  to  show  how  her 
choice  reflected  credit  upon  herself.  He  was  made  a 
party  to  "  the  secret "  very  early,  and  in  acknowledg- 
ing the  confidence  reposed  in  him,  he  said : 

Your  choice  is  worthy  of  you.  It  commends  itself  to 
my  highest  S3^mpathy  and  admiration.  You  always  seemed 
to  me  to  be  too  exalted  and  heaven-like  for  the  mere  affec- 
tion ot  ordinary  persons ;  and  not  to  be  waited  upon  by 
them  with  any  feelings  but  such  as  are  blended  with  some- 
thing of  worship.  You  may  recollect  that  I  said  to  you, 
at  a  time  when  I  could  not  be  suspected  of  a  design  to 
flatter,  that  Dr.  Judson  was  one  of  my  heroes ;  that  good- 
ness, such  as  his,  was  the  highest  type  of  greatness — far 
surpassing  all  such  ambition  as  is  founded  on  views  that 
are  limited  by  this  world,  and  beating  down  the  rivalry 
of  such  fame  as  has  in  it  2A\y  admixture  of  vanity.  It 
produces  no  wonder  in  me,  but  the  highest  interest  and 
delight,  to  know  that  your  spirit  is  so  finely  sensitive  to 
the  lofty  attractions  that  belong  to  a  character  and  career 
so  disinterested — so  sublime.  *  ^  *  ^  I  shall 
come  to  mingle  my  best  and  brightest  omens  with  the 
"  might  of  the  world's  good  wishes  "  that  will  attend  3^our 
going. 


A   MKMORIAIv.  103 

The  ship  Faneuil  Hall,  ''beautiful  and  comfort- 
able," is  riding  in  Boston  harbor,  laden  with  commod- 
ities for  the  East.  The  state-rooms  are  being  chosen, 
and  she  is  to  sail  on  the  first  of  July.  Mrs.  Judson 
visits   her  cabin  and   is   pleased  with  its  furnishings. 

The  departure  was  delayed  to  July  nth,  when, 
amid  the  adieus  of  hundreds  drawn  to  the  city  and  to 
the  wharf,  more  by  the  character  of  the  missionaries 
than  by  the  rarity  of  a  missionary  embarkation,  the 
canvass  was  given  to  the  breeze. 

The  ocean  seems  to  have  presented  no  terrors  to 
Mrs.  Judson;  or,  if  it  did,  her  friends  were  not  per- 
mitted to  know  of  the  fact.  Her  mind  was  alert  to 
learn  something  from  the  untried  element,  trusting 
herself  to  the  protection  of  Him  who  made  it.  She 
even  enjoyed  its  deep  and  frightful  movements;  her 
heart  bounding,  like  the  vessel  upon  its  mighty  waves. 
She  received  the  experience  as  a  poet  and  romance 
writer  might  have  been  expected  to  do,  and  gave  her 
friends  the  benefit  of  it,  as  a  different  mind,  lacking 
sensibility  and  power  of  depicting  an  ocean  scene, 
could  not  have  done.  Her  imagination  and  academy 
studies  were  a  means  to  exhilaration  and  profit  from 
the  voyage.  Her  lengthy  letter  to  the  Colwnbia7i 
Magaziiie,  written  en  voyage,  is  one  of  the  finest  and 
fullest  in  the  ocean  literature  of  her  time.  Not  the 
deep  only,  but  also  the  inhabitants  of  the  deep,  and 
the  feathered  tribes  which  play  upon  it,  and  the  chang- 
ing heavens  in  the  various  latitudes — all  came  under 
the  descriptive  power  of  her  versatile  pen. 

It  seems  that  St.  Helena,  upon  which  was  buried 
the  sainted  one  whom  she  had  engaged  to  memorialize, 


I04  EMII,Y   C.  JUDSON. 

did  not  lie  exactly  in  the  ship's  path,  yet  the  vessel 
sailed  sufl&ciently  near  to  it  to  make  it  seem  a  present 
object  and  to  revive  the  scenes  of  the  death  and  burial, 
that  continued  to  affect  her  deeply.  And  there  she 
penned  a  poetic  soliloquy  of  a  high  degree  of  merit,  in 
which  she  expressed  her  feelings  and  paid  honor  to  the 
departed.  * 

The  voyage  was  not  without  its  storms  and  perils, 
nor  did  Mrs.  Judson  escape  seasickness  and  other  ills. 
Dr.  Judson,  in  referring  to  the  experiences  of  the  way, 
said :  "  She  suffered  indeed  less  from  seasickness  than 
we  had  apprehended ;  but  the  cold  air  of  the  sea,  dur- 
ing most  of  the  voyage,  has  not  been  congenial  to  her 
temperament  and  constitution."  She  makes  no  allu- 
sion to  these  ills,  but  is  absorbed  in  the  glories  of  Old 
Ocean,  as  he  performs  his  feats  in  her  presence.  She 
says :  ''  There  is  a  deal  of  fun  in  a  heavy  gale  like  this, 
during  the  first  day,  but  it  becomes  a  rack  after  a 
while.  *  *  '"^  This  gale  has  probably  been  the 
grandest  sight  that  we  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  be- 
holding. The  sea  lashed  into  perfect  fury,  rising  and 
sinking  in  strange  contortions,  wresting  our  little  float- 
ing nut-shell  from  the  hands  of  the  crew,  to  leap,  and 
plunge,  and  wrestle,  as  though  born  of  the  mad  bil- 
lows which  bellow  as  they  rise,  and,  bursting,  cover  it 
with  their  foam."     (Off  Cape  Good  Hope.) 

After  about  four  and  a  half  months  of  prosperous 
sailing,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Judson,  with  Miss  Lillybridge 
and  other  new  missionaries,  landed  at  Amherst,  a  his- 
toric locality  in  foreign  mission  affairs,  of  perpetual 
interest.  Mrs.  Judson  had  just  the  mind  for  seeing  the 
country — "  queer,  ridiculous,  half-beautiful,  half-fright- 

*  Memorial  of  Sarah  B.  Judsou,  page  170. 


A   MEMORIAI..  105 

ful,  exceedingly  picturesque  Burmah."  It  was  worth 
one  salary  to  have  the  old  empire  fully  seen  and  im- 
pressively described.  Her  first  letter  to  her  sister  Kate 
draws  back  the  curtain  and  exposes  Burmese  Hfe  as  it 
was  first  met  and  needed  to  be  known  forty  years  ago. 
Subsequent  letters  continue  the  detailed  statement 
of  commonplace  things,  which  every  reader  loves  to 
know,  and  they  are  so  piquant  as  to  take  away  the 
stigma  of  dullness  that  rests  upon  much  of  the  mis- 
sionary literature  of  her  time. 

Amherst,  however,  was  not  the  destined  abiding 
place  and  field  of  the  missionaries ;  it  had  long  siace 
been  given  up  as  less  promising  than  other  places. 
And  after  spending  a  very  few  days  here,  sufficient 
only  for  a  visit  and  a  revival  of  precious  memories 
and  scenes  of  twenty  years  before,  things  were  in  readi- 
ness for  departure  to  Maulmain,  twenty-five  miles  up 
the  Sal  wen. 

"  Our  boat,"  says  Mrs.  Judson,  "  was  very  much 
like  a  long  watering-trough,  whittled  to  a  point  at  each 
end,  and  we  were  all  nestled,  like  a  parcel  of  caged 
fowls,  under  a  low  bamboo  cover,  from  which  it  was 
not  easy  to  look  out.  But  the  shore,  alongside  which 
we  were  pushed  up  stream  by  the  might  of  muscle, 
was  brilliant  with  its  unpruned  luxuriance  of  verdure, 
and  birds,  and  flowers. 

''Here  some  strange  tree  dropped  its  long  trailers 
to  the  water;  there  the  white  rice-bird,  or  a  gayer 
stranger,  with  chameleon  neck  and  crimson  wing, 
coquetted  with  its  neighbor,  and  the  wealth  of  green, 
bending  below;  and  then  followed  rich  blossoms  of 
new  shapes  and  hues,  and  bearing  nev/  names,  some 
in  clusters,  and  some  in  long,  amber  wreaths,  stained 


I06  EMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

here  and  there  with  lemon  and  vermilion,  and  all  bear- 
ing that  air  of  slumberous  richness  characteristic  of  the 
Indian  climate.  Our  oarsmen  were  Amherst  Chris- 
tians, who  seemed  as  wild  with  joy  as  the  birds  them- 
selves, (not  that  they  were  particularly  bird-like  in  any 
other  respect,)  and  there  was  laughing  and  chattering 
enough  to  make  any  heart  merry.  The  first,  being  a 
universal  language,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  understand- 
ing, but  the  latter  sounded  to  me  even  more  outlandish 
than  their  gaudy  patsoes  (wraps),  bare,  brawny  shoul- 
ders, and  turbaned  heads  appeared  to  the  eye." 

After  some  hours  of  such  up-stream  travel.  Maul- 
main  was  reached,  the  capital  of  the  newly  acquired 
British  territory.  It  had  already  enjoyed  the  presence 
and  civilizing  influence  of  English  residents,  and  thus 
was  a  very  moderately  heathen  city.  It  also  had  been 
favored  with  missionary  labors,  quite  constantly,  for 
nearly  twenty  years ;  hence  it  was  a  comparatively 
favorable  place  at  which  to  introduce  to  heathendom  a 
young  wife  of  cultivated  tastes.  Here,  too,  was  Dr.  Jud- 
son's  established  residence  and  work,  and,  consequent- 
ly, the  home  in  the  view  of  Mrs.  Judson  at  the  time  of 
her  engagement  and  marriage.  To  this  place  she  had 
voyaged,  with  some  trembling  and  tears  on  the  way 
in  view  of  her  new  responsibilities ;  and  now,  with  the 
semi-circumference  of  the  globe  between  her  and  her 
former  ties,  she  assumes  the  post  of  mother  and  teacher. 
She  meets  Henry  and  Edward,  henceforward  her  sons  ; 
and  she  finds  a  new  grave  at  which  to  weep — the  grave 
of  little  Charlie,  who  here  passed  away  at  the  time 
his  parents  were  nearing  St.  Helena,  on  their  way 
to  America. 


A   MKMORIAI..  107 

IX. 

^tWiini^— GREEN  TURBAN'S  DEN 

The  earth  shall  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as  the 
waters  cover  the  sea. — Isaiah  ii  :  9. 

Ply  the  lever,  pioneers  ! 

Many  a  waiting  angel  cheers ; 

Christ  above  is  interceding, 

Here  the  Holy  Ghost  is  pleading, 
And  the  promise  of  Jehovah 
Stands  upon  His  blessed  book. 
Mrs.  E.  C.  Judson— "  ^c*;?^  of  Maulmainr 

IT  was  November  30,  1846,  and  but  two  days  after 
anclioring  at  Amherst,  that  Mrs.  Judson  stepped 
into  Maulmain,  one  of  the  places  that  had  haunted  her 
visions  and  aroused  her  sympathies  in  early  years.  It 
was  now  a  place  to  be  known  and  an  arena  for  her 
powers.  Unlike  missionaries  before  her,  she  came  to 
a  church  and  an  occupied  home;  not  to  unbroken 
pagan  soil,  nor  with  a  husband  as  unskilled  as  herself 
in  means  of  intercourse.  In  these  particulars  her 
advantages  were  much  better  than  those  of  sister 
missionaries. 

Dr.  Judson,  some  days  after  settling,  writes :  "  I  have 
set  up  housekeeping  in  my  old  house ;  and  it  seems 
like  home,  notwithstanding  the  devastation  that  death 
and  removal  have  made.  Emily  makes  one  of  the 
best  of  wives  and  kindest  mothers  to  the  children  that 


I08  EMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

ever  man  was  blessed  with.  I  wish  you  were  here  to 
make  one  of  the  family;  but  I  suppose  that  can  not 
be." 

Mrs.  Judson  must  have  had  a  keen  sensitiveness  to 
the  experiences  of  her  husband  in  returning  to  his  old 
home  after  the  changes  of  a  year  and  a  half,  which 
included  a  round  trip  to  the  United  States,  meetings 
and  partings,  death  and  marriage,  the  separation  of  his 
children,  with  the  ocean  rolling  between  them,  and  the 
loss  of  the  ideal  wife  and  mother  who  here  bore  his 
children,  and  who  for  ten  years  and  more  v/as  the 
light  of  his  rude  dwelling.  It  required  an  effort  for 
even  so  strong  a  man  as  Dr.  Judson  to  rise  above  his 
feelings,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  blessing 
which  had  flown,  brightening  as  it  took  its  flight,  was 
so  well  compensated  for  in  the  one  that  had  come. 
Yes,  the  new  wife  must  bear  a  share  of  the  affliction. 
Her  husband  writes  to  the  sons  at  Worcester,  Mass. : 

"  I  can  hardly  realize  that  I  am  sitting  in  the  old 
house  where  we  all  lived  together  so  long ;  and  now 
your  mamma,  yourselves,  your  sister  Abby  Ann,  and 
little  Charlie  are  gone.  It  is  now  evening.  I  am 
writing  in  the  hall  where  I  used  to  sit  and  study  when 
your  mamma  had  gone  down  to  the  coast  with  Captain 
and  Mrs.  Durand.  Your  new  mamma  has  just  put 
your  little  brothers  Henry  and  Edward  to  bed.  They 
lie  in  the  room  where  you  used  to  sleep  before  you 
removed  to  the  corner  room.  Henry  is  singing  and 
talking  aloud  to  himself;  and  what  do  you  think  he 
is  saying?  Your  new  mamma  just  called  me  to  listen: 
*  My  own  mamma  went  away — away  in  a  boat.  And 
then  she  got  wings  and  went  up.     And  Charlie,  too, 


A   ME^MORIAL.  1^9 

went  up,  and   they  are   flying   above   the   moon   and 

stars.'  " 

A  delicious  pain  attends  such  domestic  pleasant- 
ness, and  Fanny  Forester  was  a  person  to  sip  the 
sweetness  and  taste  the  bitterness  of  it.  She  assumed 
her  duties  in  a  womanly  way,  yet  with  extreme  mod- 
esty. In  contemplating  attendance  upon  a  woman's 
meeting,  shortly  after  her  settlement,  she  speaks  of 
"  the  awkwardness  inseparable  from  my  (her)  appear- 
ance in  a  company  of  matrons,  where  I  feel  as  though 
I  had  no  right  to  be.  I  shall  be  thankful,  my  dear 
Mrs.  Stevens,  for  any  advice  you  or  the  loved  sisters 
who  will  meet  with  you  to-day,  can  give  me ;  for  I 
know  that  I  am  utterly  unfitted  for  this  sweet  burden 
which  God  has  laid  upon  my  heart  and  hands.  Please 
ask  them  for  their  prayers." 

With  the  opening  of  the  new  year,  1847,  she  was 
thoroughly  installed  in  her  home  and  work.  Her  jour- 
nal is  full  of  humorous  entries,  such  as  a  poet  just 
entering  upon  housekeeping  might  be  expected  to 
make.  For  example  :  ''  It  seems  to  me  as  though  I  do 
nothing  but  get  up,  turn  around  and  then  go  to  bed 
again!  I  believe  there  never  was  such  a  novice  in 
housekeeping;  and  then  the  chiMren,  and  the  lan- 
guage, and  the  thousand  and  one  other  botherations ! 
I  expected  to  make  a  rush  at  the  language,  take  it  by 
storm,  then  get  a  parcel  of  natives  about  me  and  go  to 
work  in  'true  apostolic  style.'  *  *  *  This  taking 
care  of  teething  babies,  and  teaching  darkies  to  darn 
stockings,  and  talking  English  back  end  foremost  to 
teetotum  John,  in  order  to  get  an  eatable  dinner,  is 
really  very  odd  sort  of  business  for  Fanny  Forester. 


I  lO  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

I  wonder  what  my  respectable  friends  of  the  anti-F.  F. 
school  would  say,  if  they  could  see  my  madamly  airs. 
But  I  begin  to  get  reconciled  to  my  minute  cares.  I 
believe  women  were  made  for  such  things;  though, 
when  I  get  settled,  I  hope  to  put  in  a  mixture  of  high- 
er and  better  things,  too.  But  the  person  who  would 
do  great  things  well,  must  practice  daily  on  little  ones ; 
and  she  who  would  have  the  assistance  of  the  Almighty 
in  important  acts,  must  be  daily  and  hourly  accustomed 
to  consult  His  will  in  the  minor  affairs  of  life.  *  * 
O,  how  I  rejoice  that  I  am  out  of  the  whirlpool !  Too 
gay,  too  trifling  for  a  missionary's  wife !  That  may 
be ;    but,  after  all,  gayety  is  my  lightest  sin." 

Scarcely  was  the  family  housed  in  Maulmain  ere 
the  question  of  removal  to  Rangoon  began  to  be  con- 
sidered, in  earnest.  Dr.  Judson  could  not  forget  his 
first  mooring  place,  a  third  of  a  century  before ;  and 
though  at  this  time  there  was  not  a  missionary  in  that 
place,  no  church,  no  certainty  of  toleration,  yet  he  be- 
lieved that  there  were  souls  there  "  groping  in  the  dark 
and  feeling  after  the  truth,"  and  his  soul  yearned  for 
their  salvation.  It  was  the  capital  of  Burmah  proper, 
which  lay  just  across  the  gulf  of  Martaban,  west,  and 
stretched  away  to  the  north.  After  about  six  weeks  in 
Maulmain  he  went  to  Rangoon  on  a  reconnoitering 
expedition,  leaving  Emily  to  her  first  experience  of 
his  absence :  "  All  alone,  and  so  lonely  !  My  life  is  one 
continued  heart-ache,  for  I  continually  feel  as  though 
he  was  dead.  My  family  worship  is  broken  by  tears, 
for  it  is  his  business  ;  and  when  I  attempt  to  bless  the 
food  at  meals,  my  voice  sometimes  utterly  fails.  Alone, 
with  the  children  about  me,  and  trying  to  fill  his  place, 
I  feel  widowed  indeed." 


A   MEMORIAL.  Ill 

She  tooK  great  interest  in  the  projected  removal  to 
Rangoon,  yet  only  because  she  felt  that  her  husband 
was  needed  there  more  than  in  Maulmain.  To  her  it 
involved  new  sacrifices.  In  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Gillette, 
of  Philadelphia,  she  said:  "Were  we  to  settle  down 
in  this  house  with  the  comforts  we  vShould  be  able  to 
secure,  the  pleasant  English  and  missionary  families 
about  us,  although  in  a  very  different  condition  from  a 
pastor's  family  at  home,  my  taste  would  be  gratified, 
and  I  should,  as  far  as  the  things  of  this  world  are  con- 
cerned, be  perfectly  happy.  But  that  is  not  to  be.  My 
conscience  will  not  allow  me  to  remain  in  delightful 
Maulmain  while  there  is  the  slightest  hope  of  my  hus- 
band being  able,  by  going  to  a  place  of  danger  and  pri- 
vation, to  do  anything  for  the  miserable  nation,  at  the 
door  of  which  we  are  standing.  I  am  not  myself  made 
for  great  things,  but  when  I  see  his  heart  turning  that 
way,  I  can  say  'go,'  and  when  the  trials  come,  I  know 
I  can  cheer  and  comfort  him.  As  soon  as  I  can  get  a 
few  words  of  the  language — a  couple  of  months,  per- 
haps— we  shall  put  off  to  Rangoon,  and  there  wait  an 
opportunity  to  creep  into  Ava." 

This  is  the  same  spirit  that  characterized  Sarah 
B.  Judson — anywhere  for  souls.  She  had  surrendered 
home  and  country,  fame  and  fortune,  and  she  would 
not  now  stop  to  compare  the  degrees  of  comfort  or 
discomfort  in  selecting  a  place  of  abode,  but  base  all 
calculations  on  the  probabilities  of  usefulness  to  the 
heathen.  In  this  movement,  so  soon  after  settlement, 
there  was  already  a  certainty  that  a  change  to  Ran- 
goon would  bring  a  loss  of  congenial  society — English, 


112  KMII,Y    C.  JUDSON. 

missionaries  and  an  interesting  native  church — while 
it  might  involve  persecution  and  death,  on  account  of 
the  opposition  of  the  intriguing  priesthood  and  the 
despotic,  pagan  government,  to  the  new  rehgion. 

In  February,  1847,  about  three  months  after  arriv- 
ing at  Maulmain,  Mrs.  Judson  had  the  not  uncommon 
experience  of  housekeepers — an  experience  of  movi?ig. 
Her  husband  had  searched  all  Rangoon  for  a  suitable 
house,  aided  by  his  former  acquaintance  with  the  place, 
and  had  succeeded  only  in  obtaining  an  unsuitable  one. 
For  it  the  owner  demanded  100  Rs.  (rupees)  per  month, 
but  finally  concluded  to  take  50  Rs. — $300  a  year  for 
the  upper  part  of  a  brick  house,  having  but  few  lights 
and  gloomy  as  a  prison !  He  shrank  from  taking  her 
into  such  a  den,  fearing  that  she  might  pine  and  die 
there.  They,  however,  accepted  the  situation,  and  it 
so  awakened  in  Mrs.  Judson  the  sense  of  the  uncouth, 
of  the  awful,  the  ugly,  the  ludicrous,  that  she  seems  to 
have  been  carried  above  all  feeling  of  horror  at  the 
prospect  of  living  in  such  a  den,  and  to  have  turned 
upon  it  with  a  pen  of  pleasantry,  if  not  of  poetic  jUvS- 
tice,  and  to  have  given  her  friends  an  example  of  de- 
scriptive writing  seldom  excelled. 

This  house  was  called  "  Green  Turban's  Den"  for 
the  owner,  and  also  named  "Bat  Castle"  by  Mrs.  Jud- 
son, for  reasons  found  in  her  description  of  it.  It  must 
have  been  satisfying  to  her  to  find  an  opportunity,  at 
once,  for  showing  to  friends  her  real  domestic  life  in 
India,  with  some  of  her  pets.  The  following  letter  to 
her  sister  will  stand  well  in  the  best  descriptive  writ- 
ings from  the  East,  and  will  be  much  enjoyed. 


A   MEMORIAL.  II3 

Bat  Castle  (Rangoon),  March  15,  1847. 
Dear  Kitty: 

I  write  you  from  walls  as  massive  as  any  you  read  of 
in  old  stories,  and  a  great  deal  uglier — the  very  eye-ball  and 
heart-core  of  an  old  white-bearded  Mussulman.  Think  of 
one  in  an  immense  brick  house  with  rooms  as  large  as  the 
entire  "loggery,"  (our  center  room  is  twice  as  large,  and 
has  710  window,)  and  only  one  small  window  apiece.  When 
I  speak  of  windows,  do  not  think  I  make  any  allusion  to 
glass — of  course  not.  The  windows  (holes)  are  closed  by 
means  of  heavy  board  or  plank  shutters,  tinned  over  on 
the  outside,  as  a  preventive  of  fire.  The  bamboo  houses 
of  the  natives  here  are  like  flax  or  tinder,  and  the  foreign- 
ers, who  have  more  than  the  one  cloth  which  Burmans 
wrap  about  the  body,  and  the  mat  they  sleep  on,  dare  live 
in  nothing  but  brick.  Imagine  us,  then,  on  the  second 
floor  of  this  immense  den,  with  nine  rooms  at  our  com- 
mand, the  smallest  of  which  (bathing-room  and  a  kind  of 
pantry)  is,  I  think,  quite  as  large  as  your  dining-room, 
and  the  rest  very  much  larger.  Part  of  the  floors  are  of 
brick,  and  part  of  boards  ;  but  old  "  Green  Turban  "  white- 
washed them  all,  with  the  walls,  before  we  came,  because 
the  Doctor  told  him,  when  he  was  over  here,  that  he  ''must 
make  the  house  shine  for  madam."  He  did  make  it  shine 
with  a  vengeance,  between  white-washing  and  greasing. 
They  oil  furniture  in  this  country,  as  Americans  do  mahog- 
any; but  all  his  doors  and  other  wood-work  were  fairly 
dripping,  and  we  have  not  got  rid  of  the  smell  yet ;  nor, 
with  all  our  rubbing,  is  it  quite  safe  to  hold  too  long  on 
the  door.  The  partitions  are  all  of  brick,  and  very  thick, 
and  the  door-sills  are  built  up,  so  that  I  go  over  them  at 
three  or  four  steps.  Henry  mounts  and  falls  off",  and  Ed- 
ward gets  on  all  fours,  and  accomplishes  the  pass  with 
more  safety.  The  floor  overhead  is  quite  low,  and  the 
beams,  which  are   frequent,  afibrd  shelter  to   thousands 


114  K-MII.Y    C.  JUDSON. 

and  thousands  of  bats,  that  disturb  us  in  the  day-time 
only  by  a  little  cricket-like  music,  but  in  the  night — Oh, 
if  you  could  only  hear  them  carouse !  The  mosquito  cur- 
tains are  our  only  safeguard ;  and  getting  up  is  horrible. 
The  other  night  I  awoke  faint,  with  a  feeling  of  suffoca- 
tion ;  and,  without  waiting  to  think,  jumped  out  on  the 
floor.  You  would  have  thought  "  old  Nick  "  himself  had 
come  after  you,  for,  of  course,  you  believe  these  firm  friends 
of  the  ladies  of  the  broomstick  incipient  imps.  If  there  is 
nothing  wickeder  about  them  than  about  the  little  spar- 
rows that  come  in  immense  swarms  to  the  same  beams, 
pray  what  do  they  do  all  through  the  hours  of  darkness, 
and  why  do  they  circle  and  whrz  about  a  poor  mortal's 
head,  flap  their  villainous  wings  in  one's  face,  and  then 
whisk  away,  as  if  snickering  at  the  annoyance  ?  We  have 
had  men  at  work  nearly  a  week  trying  to  thin  them  out, 
and  have  killed  a  great  many  hundreds,  but  I  suppose 
their  little  demoniacal  souls  come  back,  each  with  an  at- 
tendant, for  I  am  sure  there  are  twice  as  many  as  at  first. 
Everything,  walls,  tables,  chairs,  etc.,  are  stained  by  them. 
Besides  the  bats,  we  are  blessed  with  our  full  share  of 
cockroaches,  beetles,  spiders,  lizards,  rats,  ants,  mosquitoes 
and  bed-bugs.  With  the  last  the  wood-work  is  all  alive, 
and  the  ants  troop  over  the  house  in  great  droves,  though 
there  are  scattering  ones  beside.  Perhaps  twenty  have 
crossed  my  paper  since  I  have  been  writing.  Only  one 
cockroach  has  paid  me  a  visit,  but  the  neglect  of  these 
gentlemen  has  been  fully  made  up  by  a  company  of  black 
bugs  about  the  size  of  the  end  of  your  little  finger — name- 
less adventurers.  Kmii.y. 

Dr.  Judson,  two  weeks  previous,  had  also  regaled 
his  friends  with  an  account  of  the  bats,  mentioning, 
especially,  a  raid  made  upon  them:  "We  have  had  a 
grand  bat   hunt  yesterday  and    to-day — bagged    two 


A   MKMORIAI,.  115 

hundred  and  fifty,  and  calculate  to  make  up  a  round 
thousand  before  we  have  done.  We  find  that  in  hiring 
the  upper  story  of  this  den  we  secured  the  lower  moi- 
ety only,  the  upper  moiety  thereof  being  pre-occupied 
by  a  thriving  colony  of  vagabonds,  who  flare  up 
through  the  night  with  a  vengeance,  and  the  sound  of 
their  wings  is  as  the  sound  of  many  waters,  yea,  as  the 
sound  of  your  boasted  Yankee  Niagara ;  so  that  sleep 
departs  from  our  eyes  and  slumber  from  our  eyelids. 
But  we  are  reading  them  some  lessons  which  we 
hope  will  be  profitable  to  all  parties  concerned."  * 

From  the  foregoing  account  it  will  readily  be  in- 
ferred that  housekeeping  in  Bat  Castle  was  not  entire- 
ly such  as  the  ordinary  woman  enjoys.  Mrs.  Judson's 
surroundings  and  experiences  provoked  something 
else  than  mirth,  at  least  occasionally.  Though  she  may 
be  said  to  have  had  the  novelty  of  the  young  wife's 
housekeeping,  it  is  evident  that  she  would  have  pre- 
ferred it  in  limited  quantity.  With  the  chirp  of  the  bats 
there  came  the  moans  of  sick  children,  her  own  illness- 
es and  those  of  Dr.  Judson,  and  the  domestic  training 
of  quite  a  number. 

Miss  Lillybridge  remained  in  Maulmain,  and  she 
was  without  her  company  and  sympathy.  Dr.  Judson 
engaged  with  zeal  in  the  work  of  completing  the  dic- 
tionary, and  she  undertook  the  preparation  of  the 
Memoir  of  Sarah  B.  Judson.  To  accomplish  the  latter 
work  she  was  compelled  to  suspend,  for  a  short  time, 


*In  the  exhibition  of  "  Burman  Curios,"  in  December,  1889,  by  Mrs. 
Ingalls,  the  queen  of  the  voracious  White  Ants  of  India  was  shown.  She 
has  the  form,  color  and  size  of  a  large  grub-worm.  The  importance  of 
her  regency  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  if  found  and  destroyed  her  millions  of 
subjects  disappear  within  one  or  two  hours. 


Il6  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

the  study  of  the  native  language.  It  was  important 
that  the  book  appear  at  once,  and  so,  sick  or  well,  she 
wrought  upon  the  manuscript  with  remarkable  dili- 
gence. And,  as  proof  of  her  ability  also,  it  is  stated 
that  she  "completed  the  work  in  six  weeks  after  com- 
mencing the  examination  of  the  papers." 

In  removing  from  Maulmain,  from  a  partially  civil- 
ized community  to  one  in  which  the  suspicions  and 
rapacity  of  the  despotic  government  knew  no  bounds, 
the  missionaries  had  stored  the  most  and  best  of  their 
goods,  believing  that  they  would  be  safer  in  that  city 
than  in  Rangoon.  They  left  them  in  two  places ;  the 
more  valuable  portion,  it  seems,  with  Rev.  E.  A.  Ste- 
vens, a  most  sympathizing  friend  and  an  eminent  mis- 
sionary of  that  day.  What  was  their  grief  to  learn,  very 
soon,  that  these  best  things — best  clothes  and  most  val- 
uable goods,  many  of  them  presents  from  dear  friends 
in  America — through  the  work  of  an  incendiary  had 
been  reduced  to  ashes.  Such  tidings  are  not  particu- 
larly enjoyed  by  a  woman,  especially  not  by  one  who  is 
in  a  foreign  land  and  unaccustomed  to  such  losses. 

Another  trial  of  a  serious  nature  was  the  low  state 
of  the  cause.  One-third  of  a  century  had  passed  since 
Dr.  Judson  undertook  to  plant  the  good  seed  of  the 
Gospel  in  Rangoon;  and  what  was  there  now  to  be 
found  as  the  fruit  and  reward  of  his  travail  of  soul? 
About  twenty  nominal  Christians,  and  not  one-half  of 
them  in  a  good  spiritual  condition.  He  found  four 
who  united  with  himself  and  wife  in  renewing  the 
covenant  and  forming  a  new  church.  And  now,  such 
was  the  jealousy  of  the  government,  he  must  appear 
simply  as  *'a  minister  of  a  foreign  religion,  ministering 


A   MEMORIAL.  117 

to  foreign  residents  in  the  place,  and  as  a  dictionary- 
maker,  laboring  to  promote  the  welfare  of  both  coun- 
tries." If  he  tries  to  save  anybody,  he  must  do  so 
secretly. 

The  fitness  of  Mrs.  Judson  for  her  position  now 
appears.  While  her  husband  is  cast  down  by  the  pros- 
pect, she  comes  to  his  rescue.  He  walks  up  and  down 
her  room  with  clouded  face,  while  she  lays  the  assur- 
ances of  the  Divine  Word  upon  his  mind  and  heart. 
At  last,  being  nearly  exhausted  in  resources,  she 
turned  upon  him  with  a  quotation  which  she  learned 
before  she  could  read,  and  afterwards  wrote  every- 
where, sometimes  at  the  top  of  the  page  when  prepar- 
ing a  story  "  on  whose  success  more  depended  than  its 
readers  ever  dreamed."     He  listened: 

"  Beware  of  desperate  steps ;  the  darkest  day, 
(Live  till  to-morrow),  will  have  passed  away." 

"'I  declare,'  said  he  with  energy,  and  his  whole 
face  brightening,  '  if  I  could  only  believe  in  transmi- 
gration, I  should  have  no  doubt  that  we  had  spent  ages 
together  in  some  other  sphere,  we  are  so  alike  in  every- 
thing. Why,  those  two  lines  have  been  my  motto ;  I 
used  to  repeat  them  over  and  over  in  prison,  and  I 
have  them  now,  written  on  a  slip  of  paper,  for  a  book- 
mark.' He  stood  a  few  moments,  thinking  and  smil- 
ing, and  then  vSaid:  'Well,  one  thing  you  didn't  do: 
you  never  wrote  ''Pray  without  ceasing''  on  the  cov- 
er of  your  wafer  box.'  'No,  but  I  wrote  it  on  my  look- 
ing-glass.'" The  woman  who  can  adroitly  lead  her 
husband  away  from  the  Slough  of  Despond  has  at 
least  one  important  qualification  to  be  a  missionary's 
wife. 


Il8  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

Mrs.  Judson  suffered  considerably  from  want  of 
good  food.  At  one  time  she  said  she  was  "  within  an 
inch  of  starvation."  No  good  bread.  "Make  it?  What 
shall  I  make  it  of? — or  a  biscuit,  or  pie,  or  anything 
good?  And  when  it  is  made  of  nothing,  what  shall  I 
bake  it  in?" 

During  the  rains  she  suffered  much  in  various 
ways.  Being  obliged  to  sit  directly  before  the  window 
in  order  to  see,  she  was  seriously  affected  by  the  damp 
air.  Dr.  Judson  suffered  rheumatism,  and  she  was  ut- 
terly prostrated ;  not  able  to  sit  up  an  hour  at  a  time 
for  six  weeks.  The  wooden  ceiling  was  covered  with 
a  green  mould.  Yet,  with  her  table  at  the  side  of  her 
couch,  she  went  on  with  the  memoir,  writing  a  few 
lines  at  a  time,  lying  down  in  the  intervals. 

While  so  ill,  and  so  hungry  for  a  "bite"  that  she 
might  relish — "  changing  the  milk  woman  often,  but 
only  to  get  the  same  mixture  of  buffalo's  milk,  water 
and  something  else" — the  doctor  insisted  that  she 
must  have  something  she  could  eat,  else  she  would 
starve.  The  Bazaar-man  and  the  cook  fixed  up  a  meal 
that  she  relished  greatly,  and  on  being  urged  to  tell 
what  the  meat  was,  replied  with  laughter,  ''Rats!'' 

By  the  middle  of  June  troubles  of  many  kinds  had 
settled  upon  the  mission.  It  was  watched  by  the  gov- 
ernment and  plotted  against  by  Catholic  priests.  Both 
Dr.  and  Mrs.  Judson  were  seriously  ill,  and  sickness 
and  funeral  processions  were  the  order  of  the  day 
throughout  the  town ;  "  the  constant  tap-tap  of  nailing 
up  coffins  in  the  night  was  dreadful,"  and  the  music 
and  screeching  of  the  mourners  still  more  horrible. 
To  this  add  the  severe  sickness  of  both  of  the  boys, 


A    MEMORIAL.  119 

and  it  will  be  understood  why  Mrs.  Judson  was  met 
by  her  husband  ''with  red  eyes  and  voice  all  tremu- 
lous with  weeping"  as  he  declared  that  he  had  never 
before  looked  on  so  discouraging  a  prospect.  But  she 
had  seen  occasions  of  darkness  before,  and  now  the 
heroism  cultivated  amid  the  distresses  of  her  home-life 
in  New  York  served  a  good  purpose,  and  seems  to 
have  been  superior  for  the  moment  to  that  of  the  one 
on  whom  she  leaned  for  strength.  She  calmly  shared 
with  him,  also,  the  disappointment  experienced  in  not 
obtaining  provision  of  means  with  which  to  make 
another  expedition  to  Ava,  the  capital  of  the  Empire, 
to  obtain  toleration  from  the  government.  This  project 
was  supreme  in  his  mind,  and  entered  into  the  whole 
plan  of  removal  to  Rangoon.  He  now  began  to  think 
of  returning  to  Maulmain. 

While  in  Rangoon  Mrs.  Judson  had  some  rare  ex- 
periences with  the  reminiscences  of  early  mission  work. 
Here  was  the  beginning  of  American  missions,  just  one 
third  of  a  century  previous.  Of  Rangoon,  of  the  first 
baptism,  the  intrepid  Ann  Hasseltine  Judson,  whose 
name  had  been  passed  in  loving  reverence  around  the 
Christian  world,  the  death  of  the  only  child,  the  almost 
fatal  cruise  of  her  husband  for  health,  protracted  to  a 
year  and  devoid  of  the  means  of  sending  back  a  sylla- 
ble of  intelligence,  and  the  various  contentions  for  a 
foothold  for  the  Gospel— all  had  been  among  her  early 
readings,  and  had  inspired  her,  when  but  eleven  years 
of  age,  with  a  missionary  spirit.  Now  she  goes  over 
the  old  field  of  trial  and  triumph,  and  lives,  for  the 
hour,  with  those  into  whose  inheritance  of  love  and 
suffering  she  has  entered. 


I20  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

She  visited  the  waters  that  were  parted  by  the  bap- 
tism of  the  first  Bur  man  convert,  at  that  memorable 
sunset.  "  I  could  not,"  she  wrote,  "  if  I  were  to  at- 
tempt it,  give  anything  like  an  insight  into  my  feelings 
as  I  stood  under  the  shadow  of  the  cocoa  and  lime 
trees  on  the  banks  of  that  beautiful  pool,  and  gazed 
down  into  the  clear  waters.  How  angels  must  have 
rejoiced  over  that  penitent !  the  first  link  in  a  precious 
chain  which  is  to  reach  down  to  the  remotest  times!" 

She  also  visited  the  site  of  the  old  mission  house. 
The  building  had  been  torn  down  after  the  war,  and 
the  place  was  now  covered  by  a  garden  of  betel,  so 
thickly  planted  that  one  could  with  difficulty  make  his 
way  among  the  long  creepers  that  climbed  above  the 
head.  Dr.  Judson,  conducting  her  through  the  grounds, 
found  it  somewhat  difficult  to  identify  all  the  points. 
Mrs.  Judson  describes  the  visit  with  pathetic  emotion : 

A  plainly  dressed,  sober-faced,  middle-aged  Burman  had 
been  regarding  our  movements  for  some  time  with  curios- 
ity, and  he  now  ventured  on  a  remark. 

"I  am  looking  for  a  good  well  from  which  I  drank 
water  many  years  ago,"  was  the  reply.  "  It  was  close  by 
my  house  and  was  bricked  up." 

"Your  house!"  repeated  the  man  with  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  I  lived  here  formerly." 

The  Burman  turned  his  eye  on  the  tall  betel  vines  with 
a  kind  of  wondering  incredulity,  and  then  back  upon  our 
faces. 

"  It  was  in  the  reign  oi  Bo-dan-parah,''  (the  fouriii  king 
from  the  present  reigning  monarch.) 

If,  my  dear  Mr.  Bright,  some  modern  looking  person 
should  walk  into  your  parlor  and  announce  himself  as  the 
**  Wandering  Jew,"  I  doubt  whether  your  smile  and  shrug 


A   MEMORIAI..  121 

would  be  quite  so  significant  as  were  those  of  our  new 
friend.  There  was  the  well,  however,  a  proof  against  im- 
posture ;  and  the  next  moment  it  was  evidently  so  regard- 
ed by  the  Burman,  for  he  led  the  way  to  it  without  speak- 
ing. It  was  a  large,  square  well — the  bricks  all  green  with 
moss,  or  silvered  by  lichens  — almost  as  good  as  new,  and 
quite  superior  to  anything  in  the  neighborhood.  It  could 
not  be  looked  upon  without  some  emotion ;  and  the  man 
stood  by  us,  listening  to  all  our  remarks  as  though  he 
hoped  to  hear  something  he  might  understand ;  and  when 
we  went  away  he  followed  a  little,  and  then  stood  and 
gazed  after  us  in  wondering  silence. 

Another  of  our  visiting  places  was  the  but  half-inclosed 
neglected  English  grave-yard.  The  first  child  of  Europe- 
an parents  born  in  Burmah  had  been  buried  there;  and 
there  was  a  strong  tie  between  the  mouldering  little  one 
and  ourselves.  Over  the  grave  of  little  Roger  stood,  but 
slightly  broken,  the  rude  brick  monument  which  was  built 
thirty-three  years  ago ;  and  a  tall  azalia,  very  much  like 
those  which  perfume  the  forests  of  our  New  York,  had 
grown  out  from  the  base,  almost  overshadowing  it.  It  was 
strange  to  stand  and  muse  beside  that  little  grave,  with 
one  parent  by  my  side,  and  the  other  so  irrecoverably  a 
being  of  the  past.  Oh,  how  she  had  wept  there ! — and 
how  human  she  grew! — she  whom  I  had  formerly  only 
wondered  at — while  my  own  tears  started  in  sympathy. 

One  might  almost  envy  the  romance  of  Alderbrook 
for  the  delicious  melancholy  of  that  hour,  were  there 
first  a  capacity,  like  hers,  to  entertain  it.  It  was  of 
brief  continuance,  however,  and  her  seven  month's  stay 
in  Rangoon  but  an  episode  in  her  eventful  career.  The 
time  was  well  occupied  in  training  her  household,  and, 
after  writing  the  memoir,  in  qualifying  herself  for 
reaching  the  benighted  souls  about  her.     But  that  city 


122  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

did  not  yet  present  the  open  door  to  the  Burman  em- 
pire that  Dr.  Judson  hoped  for,  and  he  sorrowfully 
turned  away,  and  with  his  family  went  back  to  Maul- 
main.  At  the  time  of  this  writing,  however,  Rangoon 
contains  fully  4,750  Baptists;  more  in  proportion  to 
population  than  the  average  American  city.  It  also 
has  schools,  printing-houses,  and  other  elements  of 
civilization. 


A   MEMORIAL.  123 


^auixnain— THREE  years  there 

'•  It  may  be  in  a  diviner  care, 

Transfigured  and  made  pure, 
The  harvest,  which  we  deemed  wholly  lost. 
Waits,  perfect  and  mature. 
And  the  faint  heart  that  now  defeated  grieves  ^^ 
May  yet  stand  smiling  'mid  abundant  sheaves." 

IT  was  early  in  September  when  the  Judsons  arrived 
again  in  Maulmain  to  take  up  the  thread  of  toil 
there  so  recently  dropped.  At  that  time  there  were  in 
the  place  twenty-four  missionaries,  male  and  female. 
So  large  a  collection  in  one  town,  in  that  day  of  felt 
scarcity  of  laborers,  was  not  only  strange,  but  a  griev- 
ance to  Dr.  Judson,  in  which  his  wife  shared.  They 
had  been  ready  to  carry  the  Gospel  to  Ava  also,  but 
were  hindered,  for  some  wise  reason,  and  now  they 
quieted  down  to  the  routine  of  home-Ufe  and  study, 
awaiting  the  leadings  of  Providence. 

As  the  year  came  to  a  close,  on  December  24,  1847, 
they  became  the  happy  parents  of  a  daughter.  It  was 
Mrs.  Judson's  first-born,  and  the  event  gave  her  a 
thrill  of  delight.  While  it  enkindled  in  her  heart  grat- 
itude to  God  for  the  precious  gift,  it  likewise  stirred 
the  spirit  of  song,  and  was  the  occasion  of  one  of  her 
most  beautiful  poems.  To  a  poet  of  her  class  a  babe 
is  a  poem,  lacking  only  versification.  And  so  deeply 
was  the  fountain  moved  at   this  time  that   its   finest 


124  EMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

Sparkle  was  given  forth.  The  little  one  took  her  place 
in  the  Family  Record  as  Eitiily  Frances^  while  for  the 
pleasure  of  the  reading  world  she  was  immortalized  as 
"  My  Bird."     The  following  are  the  lines : 

MY  BIRD. 

Ere  last  year's  moon  had  left  the  sky, 
A  birdling  sought  my  Indian  nest, 

And  folded,  O,  so  lovingly  ! 

Her  tiny  wings  upon  my  breast. 

From  morn  till  evening's  purple  tinge 
In  winsome  helplessness  she  lies; 

Two  rose  leaves,  with  a  silken  fringe, 
Shut  softly  on  her  starry  eyes. 

There's  not  in  Ind  a  lovelier  bird ; 

Broad  earth  owns  not  a  happier  nest ; 
O  God,  thou  hast  a  fountain  stirred. 

Whose  waters  nevermore  shall  rest ! 

This  beautiful,  mysterious  thing, 
This  seeming  visitant  from  heaven. 

This  bird  with  the  immortal  wing, 
To  me — to  me  Thy  hand -has  given. 

The  pulse  first  caught  its  tiny  stroke. 
The  blood  its  crimson  hue,  from  mine ; 

This  life,  which  I  have  dared  invoke, 
Henceforth  is  parallel  with  thine. 

A  silent  awe  is  in  my  room  ; 

I  tremble  with  delicious  fear ; 
The  future,  with  its  light  and  gloom, — 

Time  and  Eternity  are  here. 

Doubts — hopes  in  eager  tumult  rise ; 

Hear,  O  my  God !  one  earnest  prayer : 
Room  for  my  bird  in  Paradise, 

And  give  her  angel  plumage  there. 


{Mrs.  T.A.  T.  Hanna,  Phila.) 


A    MEMORIAL.  125 

It  is  seen  that  each  line  is  not  only  fraught  with  a 
very  delicate  sentiment,  but  also  contains  a  most  ten- 
der appreciation  of  the  honors  and  responsibilities  of 
motherhood.  In  reading  it,  one  can  but  wish  that 
every  mother  were  a  Christian  poet.  And  as  this 
"Bird"  is  followed  in  her  career  to  the  present  time, 
and  is  found  happily  domesticated  as  a  pastor's  wife, 
and  chirping  amid  a  full  nest  of  birds  of  her  own,  it  is 
seen  how  the  impress  of  the  hand  that  was  removed, 
and  the  contact  of  the  heart  that  was  stilled  when  she 
was  less  than  seven  years  of  age,  determined  even  then 
the  character  of  this  beautiful  mother. 

It  is  a  great  gratification  to  the  author  to  be  able  to 
give  a  picture  of  Mrs.  Hanna,  as  she  appeared  at  about 
the  age  of  twenty-two.  With  only  a  little  more  ma- 
tured look  now,  her  appearance  is  the  same  as  then. 

The  year  1848  dawned  auspiciously  upon  thejud- 
son  home.  All  were  quite  well,  and,  except  that  Dr. 
Judson  was  still  stinging  under  his  disappointment  in 
not  getting  to  the  heart  of  the  Burman  Empire,  were 
quite  happy.  Their  home,  after  returning  to  Maul- 
main,  was  fixed  at  some  distance  from  the  chapel,  in 
order  that  Dr.  Judson  might  keep  aloof  from  pas- 
toral concerns  and  attachments,  and  thus  render  it 
easy  for  him  to  leave  if  the  way  should  open  for  him 
to  go  to  Ava.  Then,  as  the  prospect  seemed  to  close 
entirely,  they  removed  to  their  former  home;  the 
same  that  was  occupied  by  the  family  when  the  second 
wife  was  living. 

Mrs.  Judson's  life  in  Rangoon,  brief  as  it  was,  re- 
sulted in  the  writing  of  the  Memoir  of  Sarah  B.  Jud- 
son, which  has  had  an  influential  place  in  missionary 


126  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

annals.  It  was  written  in  the  style  peculiar  to  the 
author,  and  had  a  large  circulation.  And  though  this 
work  and  the  illness  of  herself  and  family  stood  in  the 
way  of  constant  study  of  the  language,  yet  she  enjoyed 
some  opportunity  for  learning  it,  and  had  the  faculty 
of  acquiring  it  rapidly.  In  Maulmain,  life  flows  on 
with  added  family  cares,  and  new  efibrts  to  accomplish 
something  bearing  directly  on  the  progress  of  th-e 
mission. 

She  was  now  dwelling  near  the  Burman  church, 
and  though  her  husband  did  not  again  assume  the  full 
pastorate  she  was  privileged,  as  the  health  of  the  family 
permitted,  to  conduct  prayer-meetings  of  native  females 
and  class  exercises  in  the  Scriptures.  To  this  labor 
she  added  a  special  work — the  completion  of  her  pred- 
ecessor's series  of  Scripture  Questions  on  historical 
parts  of  the  New  Testament.  And  Dr.  Judson  ex- 
pressed the  hope  that  "the  young  romancer"  might 
yet  "come  to  some  good." 

Doubtless  she  was  still  annoyed  by  adverse  opin- 
ions as  to  her  fitness  for  her  position.  The  state  of 
missionary  sentiment  in  America  was  not  yet  such  as 
to  preclude  unfavorable  criticism,  even  without  occa- 
sion. She  had  done  well  for  the  time  and  opportunity 
granted;  still  a  sister  missionary,  Mrs.  Brayton,  took 
up  her  cause,  as  is  evident  from  the  following  extract 
of  a  letter  to  her,  acknowledging  her  thoughtful  kind- 
ness, dated  nearly  two  years  after  her  marriage : 

"I  fully  appreciate  your  kindness  in  'advocating 
my  cause,'  but,  after  all,  my  dear  sister,  of  what  conse- 
quence are  the  opinions  of  men  ?  Why  should  I  spend 
the  few  precious  hours  allotted  me  here  in  trying  to 


A   MKMORIAI,.  127 

convince  people  away  in  America  that  I  am  a  good 
missionary  ?  If  I  walk  humbly  and  prayerfully  before 
God,  try  to  do  all  the  good  in  my  power,  and  leave  my 
reputation  in  His  hands,  I  am  not  afraid  that  I  shall 
suffer.  But  for  this  trust  I  should  scarce  have  vent- 
ured to  put  myself  in  a  position  to  be  criticised,  as  I 
very  well  knew  I  was  doing  when  I  consented  to  come 
to  Burmah.  Formerly  I  used  the  little  talent  that 
God  had  given  me  for  what  I  believed  a  legitimate 
object,  and  I  can  but  believe  I  was  blessed  in  so  doing. 
As  soon  as  that  object  was  accomplished,  He  opened  a 
wider  field  of  usefulness,  and  I  entered  it.  That  I  am 
unfit  for  the  work  I  very  well  know ;  that  I  may  be 
fitted  for  it  I  daily  pray.  But  will  it  fit  me  any  better 
—shall  I  be  any  more  diligent  and  prayerful,  if  I  dis- 
tract my  mind  and  divide  my  attention  between  what 
Americans  think  of  me,  and  what  Burmans  think  of 
my  Savior?  No,  no,  my  dear  sister.  Though  many 
may  think  ill  of  me,  I  already  have  more  credit  than  I 
deserve,  and  my  little,  small,  insignificant  self  is  not 
worth  the  ink  that  would  be  wasted  on  a  vindication, 
explanation,  or  whatever  you  may  choose  to  call  it." 

Just  as  this  biography  was  being  sent  to  the  print- 
ers, the  author  received  the  following  extract  of  a  let- 
ter from  Mrs.  Wade  to  Mrs.  O'Brien,  in  this  country, 
incidentally  giving  the  view  of  one  of  the  wisest  and 
most  experienced  of  missionaries  : 

Tavoy,  February  25,  1847. 
My  own  beloved  Sister: 

■^  ^  ^  Brother  Judson  returned  to  us  with  improved 
health,  and  had  gone  to  Rangoon,  when  Mr.  Wade  went  to 
Maulmain  to  take  our  sweet  little  girls  (Mr.  Mason's)  to 


128  EMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

sister  Brayton,  who  is  to  take  them  home.  Mr.  Wade  was 
pleased  With  our  new  sister  Judson,  as  all  the  friends  are  at 
Maulmain,  as  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  learn.  Her  health 
has  been  our  greatest  cause  for  anxiety,  but  Mr.  Wade  says 
she  looks  pretty  well  now.  As  it  regards  her  age,  people 
at  home  can  not  know  how  unwise  it  would  have  been  for 
him  to  have  brought  a  wife  of  a  *•  suitable  age  "  to  this 
country,  to  be  obliged  to  speak  a  new  language  and  adapt 
herself  to  such  a  strange  people.  Our  beloved  brother 
knew  what  he  was  doing,  and  I  think  time  will  prove  that 
he  chose  wisely. 

Her  facility  in  learning  and  in  using  the  dialect  of 
the  natives  has  been  mentioned  as  remarkable ;  and 
this  is  further  indicated  by  the  earliness  at  w^hich  she 
employed  it  for  their  benefit.  It  is  said  that  "  she 
entered  with  hearty  sympathy  into  her  husband's  dry 
dictionary  labors,  and  not  only  solaced  his  hours  of 
relaxation,  but  aided  with  her  acute  suggestions  in 
resolving  many  a  knotty  word-problem ;  while  she  her- 
self attained  a  practical  mastery  of  the  Burmese  lan- 
guage, and  even  an  elegance  in  writing  it,  entirely 
beyond  what  could  have  been  anticipated  from  the 
exceeding  slenderness  of  her  health,  and  her  engross- 
ing domestic  cares." 

As  the  year  1848  drew  to  a  close,  thick  clouds  gath- 
ered about  her  home.  Of  these  she  was  not  so  fully 
conscious  as  were  others,  because  they  were  occasioned 
by  her  own  illness ;  a  circumstance  less  serious  to  her 
view,  obviously,  than  to  others.  A  pony  was  pur- 
chased and  exercise  in  the  saddle  was  tried  as  a  rem- 
edy, but  only  for  one  week.  Then  she  declined  very 
rapidly.     A  trip  to  Tavoy  was  next  tried.     But  after  a 


A   MEMORIAI..  129 

week,  in  which  she  did  not  go  out,  nor  realize  any 
essential  change  for  the  better,  she  returned  to  Maul- 
main  *4n  a  serious  plight."  After  some  time,  in  which 
much  attention  was  given  by  friends  to  her  state  and 
needs,  she  partially  recovered  and  felt  quite  hopeful 
for  the  future. 

For  nearly  five  months  she  had  been  unable  to 
re-ad  aloud  or  to  talk  continuously,  and  as  the  native 
tongue  is  retained  only  by  using  the  voice,  she  lost 
very  much  in  the  language.  This  was  an  occasion  of 
grief  to  her,  but  she  had  learned  not  to  expect  to 
make  rapid  headway,  and  to  submit  to  the  divine 
pleasure.  Her  journal  contains  full  statements  of  her 
religious  experience,  and  shows  a  simple  type  of  piety, 
unmistakably  genuine  and  progressive. 

In  May,  1849,  she  felt  able  to  resume  literary  labor, 
and  did  so,  though,  doubtless,  working  beyond  her 
strength.  She  completed  some  notes  to  the  memoir, 
on  which  she  bestowed  more  time,  proportionately, 
than  on  the  body  of  the  book,  took  a  short  lesson  in 
Burmese  daily,  and  resumed  the  charge  of  the  native 
female  prayer-meeting.  The  women  were  much  de- 
lighted to  notice  the  improvement  of  her  health,  and 
were  anxious  that  she  should  begin  the  Bible-class 
again ;  thus  proving  their  attachment  to  her,  and  their 
appreciation  of  her  services.  She  had  promised  them 
a  translation  of  portions  of  "Pilgrim's  Progress"  not 
yet  given  them,  and  they  were  anxiously  inquiring 
for  it. 

As  the  following  year,  1849,  was  closing,  there  was 
a  change  of  solicitude  from  the  husband  to  the  wife. 
It  was   now  her  turn  to  be  deeply  anxious,  and  to 


130  KMII^Y   C.  JUDSON. 

acknowledge  an  occasion  of  alarm.  Dr.  Judson  had 
taken  a  violent  cold,  and  this  was  followed  by  an 
attack  of  the  fever  of  the  country,  of  a  very  grave 
character ;  so  grave,  indeed,  that  during  the  months  in 
which  it  was  protracted  he  was  often  heard  to  say 
that,  compared  to  it,  he  had  never  been  ill  in  India 
before.  In  January  (1850)  he  and  Mrs.  Judson  made 
a  trip  down  the  coast  to  Mergui,  by  steamer,  in  hope 
of  relieving  him,  but  it  furnished  no  permanent  change. 
Next  they  spent  a  month  at  Amherst,  also  without 
benefit.  A  change  of  house  was  tried,  but  it  brought 
no  relief. 

Thus  for  months  Dr.  Judson  continued  to  fail, 
until  '*  one  evening  his  muscular  strength  gave  way, 
and  he  was  prostrated  on  the  bed,  unable  to  help  him- 
self The  Doctor  now  became  alarmed,  and  said  the 
only  hope  for  him  was  a  long  voyage."  Mrs.  Jud- 
son, thus  writing,  was  confronted  by  more  serious  cir- 
cumstances than  she  had  yet  met.  It  was  the  only 
decline  which  nothing  seemed  to  check,  and  death  was 
imminent,  except  as  it  might  be  averted  by  sea  air. 
A  voyage  must  be  taken,  and  without  her,  as  her  situ- 
ation made  it  necessary  for  her  to  remain  at  home. 
The  separation  would  thus  cause  the  deepest  solicitude 
on  the  part  of  each.  He  would  be  anxious  concerning 
her,  while  she  would  be  distressed  by  his  detention, 
because  she  could  not  be  company  for  him,  nor  assist- 
ance, nor  be  able  to  hear  from  him  for  a  long  time 
after  his  departure. 

Mrs.  Judson  was  now  weary  and  cast  down ;  never 
so  heavy-hearted  in  her  life  before.  Naturally  confid- 
ing and  disposed   to  lean  upon   her  friends  for  sym- 


A   MEMORIAL.  13 1 

pathy,  she  had  reached  an  occasion  when  one  of  her 
*'old  friends"  would  have  been  indeed  a  ministering 
angel,  notwithstanding  the  neighborliness  of  sister 
missionaries.  Her  husband  must  go,  must  go! — no 
one  could  say  whether  to  return,  while  the  probability 
that  he  would  not  arose  almost  to  a  certainty.  She,  a 
wife  of  less  than  four  summers,  already  began  to  see 
the  weeds  of  widowhood  coming  upon  her. 

Dr.  Judson  had  been  ill  for  five  months  when,  one 
evening,  as  he  attempted  to  reach  his  cot  his  back 
gave  way  and  he  was  unable  longer  to  stand  on  his 
feet.  His  case  was  now  desperate,  and  the  plan  of 
putting  to  sea  must  be  carried  out.  Passage  was  en- 
gaged on  the  French  bark  Aristide  Marie,  bound  for 
the  Isle  of  Bourbon,  and  he  was  carried  aboard  April 
3d,  with  Mr.  Ranney,  of  the  mission,  for  his  compan- 
ion and  nurse,  and  also  a  faithful  Bengalee  servant  who 
had  been  in  the  family  two  years.  Arrangements  for 
his  comfort  were  as  complete  as  possible. 

By  a  conflict  of  authorities  the  vessel  failed  of 
being  towed  out  of  the  river  for  some  days.  Mrs.  Jud- 
son went  on  board  with  him  and  continued  there,  min- 
istering to  his  comfort  throughout  the  day.  At  dark 
she  returned  to  her  saddened  home,  to  stay  with  the 
children.  Next  day,  finding  that  the  vessel  had 
dropped  down  but  a  Httle  distance,  she  obtained  a  boat 
and  overtook  it  and  spent  another  day  with  him.  The 
third  day,  also,  she  went,  finding  him  not  so  well  as  on 
previous  days,  yet  compelled  to  leave  him  at  night ;  as 
she  then  supposed,  finally.  On  the  morning  of  the 
fourth  day  she  was  so  distressed  with  anxiety  that  she 
again  took  a  boat  and  reached  the  vessel  at  about  two 


132  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  She  found  him  unable  to 
speak  except  in  whispers,  and  she  felt  like  coinciding 
with  the  natives  that  she  had  sent  to  fan  him,  in  their 
importunity  to  have  him  taken  ashore.  Still,  the  phy- 
sician's orders  must  be  obeyed,  and  again  she  bade  him 
adieu,  and  for  the  last  time.  It  was  dark.  The  deep 
shadows  of  the  night  were  but  a  figure  of  the  real 
shadows  upon  her  heart.  The  lips  that  ''moved  to 
say  some  word  of  farewell,"  gave  no  sound. 

After  six  days  the  vessel  cleared  the  river,  and  the 
pilot  was  able  to  leave  it  to  go  on  its  way.  By  him 
word  was  returned  to  Mrs.  Judson  from  the  invalid, 
that  "there  was  something  animating  in  the  touch 
of  the  sea  breeze,"  and  that  he  believed  it  to  be  the 
will  of  God  that  he  should  recover.  But  the  cloud  on 
her  heart  did  not  depart  with  the  little  gilding  he  gave 
to  it.  That  last  sad  parting,  "without  a  word,  and 
almost  without  a  thought,  so  entirely  had  pain  ab- 
sorbed every  faculty,"  could  not  be  forgotten.  The 
cloud  did  not  rise. 

On  the  1 2th,  nine  days  after  embarkation,  he 
reached  the  end  of  toil  and  suffering.  His  last  words, 
like  those  of  his  beloved  Ann,  were  in  the  language 
of  the  people  of  his  heart — the  Burmese.  He  said  to 
the  servant :  "  Take  care  of  poor  mistress,"  and  soon 
expired.  It  seeming  best  to  bury  soon,  a  strong  plank 
coffin  was  promptly  made,  several  buckets  of  sand 
poured  into  it  to  make  it  sink,  and  all  that  was  mor- 
tal of  Adoniram  Judson  was  committed  to  the  deep. 

"  Poor  mistress,"  now  poor  indeed,  could  only  have 
painful  imaginings  as  to  the  scenes  upon  the  Aristide 
Marie.     Nor  were  her  forebodings  to  be  removed  or 


A   MKMORIAI..  133 

in  anywise  answered  by  early  tidings.  Vessels  were 
comparatively  few  in  the  Indian  Ocean  then ;  ports 
were  not  numerous  nor  easily  entered,  and  a  passing 
vessel  available  for  exchanging  the  news  and  mails 
was  a  rarity. 

When  Mrs.  Judson  returned  from  the  ship  to  her 
darkened  home  on  that  last  sad  evening  she  was  fully 
conscious  of  the  main  facts  as  to  his  condition,  and 
could  but  be  convinced  as  to  the  nature  of  the  mes- 
sage that  would  be  brought  to  her  after  some  months 
— how  many,  she  had  no  means  of  determining.  The 
next  day  was  the  Sabbath ;  and  such  a  Sabbath  in  the 
once  bright  and  happy  home  of  the  Judsons !  The 
father  and  husband  was  gone ;  the  morning  light  was 
gloom,  the  sound  of  preparation  for  the  joys  of  the 
day  was  muffled,  and  the  music  of  the  children's  voices 
seemed  to  be  keyed  to  a  sepulchral  note.  And  was 
not  this  the  first  of  unnumbered  Sabbaths  of  darkness, 
not  of  light,  as  formerly  ? 

Monday  brought  its  accustomed  toil  and  turbu- 
lence, but  no  husband  from  his  Sunday  work  to  share 
the  yoke.  Nor  was  there  the  semblance  of  rainbow 
in  her  darkened  sky.  There  was  no  hope  that  he 
would  come  bounding  over  the  threshold  at  eventide, 
driving  out  the  gloom  and  bringing  back  the  children's 
glee.  Nor  was  there  any  promise  for  the  succeeding 
day ;  nor  for  the  day  subsequent  to  that.  The  children 
might  ask  when  papa  would  come,  but  the  question 
would  only  add  to  the  consciousness  of  inability  to 
answer.     It  v/as  night ! — all  the  while,  night ! 

On  the  tenth  day  of  his  departure,  borne  from  home 
on  a  litter,  his  lifeless  body  was  lowered  to  the  bottom 


134  KMIIvY   C.  JUDSON. 

of  the  sea ;  and  ten  days  thereafter  she  gave  birth  to  a 
lifeless  form  that  was  lowered  to  its  little  bed  in  the 
ground.  While  hope  that  she  should  again  receive  her 
husband  had  about  expired  with  the  day  on  which 
she  last  left  him,  there  was  another  hope — the  hope 
that  springs  gladsome,  if  not  immortal,  in  woman's 
breast — that  she  might  have  one  to  bear  his  image 
and  name. 

Between  solicitude  for  him  who  was  drifting  away, 
farther  and  farther,  and  the  anxious  expectancy  of  the 
near  event  at  home,  her  tender  heart  was  truly  tried. 
The  child's  coming  could  bring  only  an  abated  joy  in 
the  father's  absence ;  and  if  he  should  never  return,  it 
would  be  but  a  half-joy  through  Hfe. 

God  ordered  the  event  in  a  wise  way,  though  it 
wounded  her  heart  most  severely.  She  was  suscepti- 
ble to  conflicting  emotions  in  an  unusual  degree,  and 
never  more  so  than  on  this  occasion.  And  ere  long  she 
gave  expression  to  her  feelings  in  one  of  the  finest 
strains  of  domestic  verse  of  which  she  was  author. 
The  *'  given  name  "  of  the  child  had  been  selected  in 
honor  of  her  father,  Charles  Chubbuck,  and  his  still, 
natal  day  gave  rise  to  the  following  beautiful   lines: 

ANGEIy  CHARLIE. 

He  came — a  beauteous  vision — 

Theu,  vanished  from  my  sight, 
His  wing  one  moment  cleaving 

The  blackness  of  my  night ; 
My  glad  ear  caught  its  rustle. 

Then,  sweeping  by,  he  stole 
The  dew-drop  that  his  coming 

Had  cherished  in  my  soul. 


A   MKMORIAL.  135 

Oh,  he  had  been  my  solace 

When  grief  my  spirit  swayed, 
And  on  his  fragile  being 

Had  tender  hopes  been  stayed ; 
Where  thought,  where  feeling  lingered 

His  form  was  sure  to  glide, 
And  in  the  lone  night  watches 

'Twas  ever  by  ray  side. 

He  came ;  but  as  the  blossom 

Its  petals  closes  up 
And  hides  them  from  the  tempest. 

Within  its  sheltering  cup. 
So  he  his  spirit  gathered 

Back  to  his  frightened  breast. 
And  passed  from  earth's  grim  threshold, 

To  be  the  Savior's  guest. 

My  boy — Ah,  me !  the  sweetness. 

The  anguish  of  that  word ! — 
My  boy,  when  in  strange  night  dreams 

My  slumbering  soul  is  stirred ; 
When  music  floats  around  me, 

When  soft  lips  touch  my  brow. 
And  whisper  gentle  greetings, 

Oh,  tell  me,  is  it  thou  ? 

I  know,  by  one  sweet  token, 

My  Charlie  is  not  dead ; 
One  golden  clue  he  left  me, 

As  on  his  track  he  sped. 
Were  he  some  gem  or  blossom, 

But  fashioned  for  to-day. 
My  love  would  slowly  perish 

With  his  dissolving  clay. 

Oh,  by  this  deathless  yearning, 

Which  is  not  idly  given ; 
By  the  delicious  nearness 

My  spirit  feels  to  heaven ; 


136  KMII^Y    C.  JUDSON. 

By  dreams  that  throng  my  night-sleep, 

By  vieions  of  the  day, 
By  whispers  when  I'm  erring, 

By  promptings  when  I  pray ; — 

I  know  this  life  so  cherished, 

Which  sprang  beneath  my  heart, 
Which  formed  of  my  own  being 

So  beautiful  a  part ; 
This  precious,  winsome  creature, 

My  unfledged,  voiceless  dove. 
Lifts  now  a  seraph's  pinion, 

And  warbles  lays  of  love. 

Oh,  I  would  not  recall  thee, 

My  glorious  angel  boy  ! 
Thou  needest  not  my  bosom, 

Rare  bird  of  light  and  joy  ; 
Here  dash  I  down  the  tear-drops. 

Still  gathering  in  my  eyes ; 
Blest — Oh !  how  blest ! — in  adding 

A  seraph  to  the  skies  ! 


A   MKMORIAI..  137 


XI. 


"®h^  ^VOn  t&xO'^^''— HOMEWARD 
FLIGHT. 

I  thank  Thee,  gracious  Lord, 

For  the  divine  award 

Of  strength  that  helps  me  up  the  heavy  heights 

Of  mortal  sorrow,  where,  through  the  tears  forlorn, 

My  eyes  get  glimpses  of  the  authentic  lights 

Of  love's  eternal  morn. 

AxicE  Gary 


A= 


S  days  wore  away,  lengthened  to  weeks,  and  then 
^  to  months,  Mrs.  Judson  became  increasingly  fa- 
miliar with  some  of  the  exigencies  of  missionary  life. 
Especially  did  she  become  schooled  in  the  hardest  of 
all  tasks,  waiting— ^2:\Mv^%  for  tidings  from  a  husband 
in  quest  of  health.  Her  situation  was  not  less  trying 
than  was  that  of  Ann  H.  Judson  at  Rangoon  in  181 8, 
when  the  same  one  was  drifting  over  the  Bay  of  Ben- 
gal, near  to  death's  door  and  equally  unable  to  hear  or 
to  be  heard  from ;  and  not  less  was  she  in  direct  and 
faithful  performance  of  duty.  But  to  her  was  given 
the  eminent  faculty  of  poesy,  and  she  was  able  to  ver- 
sify some  of  the  trials  of  a  missionary  career,  thus 
showing  them  in  a  real  and  impressive  light,  and  add- 
ing to  the  literature  of  missions.  The  following  to  her 
mother,  composed  during  this  terrible  ordeal  of  wait- 
ing, is  confessedly  highly  poetic,  and  is  an  instructive 
epigram  of  human  experience : 


138  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

SWEET  MOTHER. 

The  wild  south-west  monsoon  has  risen, 
On  broad,  gray  wings  of  gloom, 

While  here  from  out  my  dreary  prison 
I  look  as  from  a  tomb ; 

Alas! 
My  heart  another  tomb. 

Upon  the  low,  thatched  roof  the  rain 

With  ceaseless  patter  falls ; 
My  choicest  treasures  bear  its  stain, 

Mould  gathers  on  the  walls— 
Would  Heaven 

'Twere  only  on  the  walls  ! 

Sweet  mother,  I  am  here  alone, 

In  sorrow  and  in  pain  ; 
The  sunshine  from  my  heart  has  flown, 

It  feels  the  driving  rain  ; 
Ah,  me ! 

The  chill,  the  mould,  and  rain. 

Four  laggard  months  have  wheeled  their  round 

Since  love  upon  it  smiled; 
And  everything  of  earth  has  frowned 

On  thy  poor  stricken  child 
Sweet  friend. 

Thy  weary,  suffering  child. 

I'd  watched  him,  mother,  night  and  day, 
Scarce  breathing  when  he  slept, 

And  as  my  hopes  were  swept  away 
I'd  in  his  bosom  wept ! 

Oh,  God  ! 
How  had  I  prayed  and  wept ! 

They  bore  him  from  me  to  the  ship, 

As  bearers  bear  the  dead ; 
I  pressed  his  speechless,  quivering  lip, 

And  left  him  on  his  bed, — 
Alas ! 

It  seemed  a  cofl&n  bed. 


A  MKMORIAL.  ^39 

Then,  mother,  little  Charley  came, 

Our  beautiful,  fair  boy, 
With  my  own  father's  cherished  name,— 

But  Oh,  he  brought  no  joy,— 
My  child 

Brought  mourning  and  no  joy. 

His  little  grave  I  may  not  see, 
Though  weary  months  have  sped 

Since  pitying  lips  bent  over  me, 
And  whispered,  "  He  is  dead." 

Ah,  me ! 
'Tis  dreadful  to  be  dead  ! 

I  do  not  mean  for  one  like  me. 

So  weary;  worn  and  weak ; 
Death's  shadowy  paleness  seems  to  be. 

E'en  now,  upon  my  cheek ; 
His  seal 

On  form,  and  brow,  and  cheek. 

But  for  a  bright-winged  bird  like  him. 

To  hush  his  joyous  song. 
And  prisoned  in  a  coffin  dim. 

Join  Death's  pale,  phantom  throng— 
My  boy 

To  join  that  grizzly  throng! 

Oh,  mother,  I  can  scarcely  bear 

To  think  of  this  to-day  \ 
It  was  so  exquisitely  fair, — 
That  little  form  of  clay— 

My  heart 
Still  lingers  by  his  clay. 
And  when  for  one  loved  far,  far  more, 

Come  thickly  gathering  tears. 
My  star  of  faith  is  clouded  o'er ; 
I  sink  beneath  my  fears, 

Sweet  friend, 
My  heavy  weight  of  fears. 


140  KMII,Y   C.  JUDSON. 

Oh,  should  he  not  return  to  me, 
Drear,  drear  must  be  my  night ; 

And,  mother,  I  can  almost  see, 
K'en  now,  the  gath'ring  blight ; 

I  stand 
As  stricken  by  the  blight. 

Oh,  but  to  feel  thy  fond  arms  twine 

Around  me  once  again ! 
It  almost  seems  those  lips  of  thine 

Might  kiss  away  the  pain ; 
Might  soothe 

This  dull,  cold,  heavy  pain. 

But,  gentle  mother,  through  life's  storms 

I  may  not  lean  on  thee ; 
For  helpless,  cowering  little  forms 

Cling  trustingly  to  me, — 
Poor  babes ! 

To  have  no  guide  but  me ! 

"With  weary  foot  and  broken  wing, 
With  bleeding  heart  and  sore, 

Thy  dove  looks  backward  sorrowing, 
But  seeks  the  ark  no  more ; 

Thy  breast 
Seeks  never,  never  more. 

Sweet  mother,  for  the  exile  pray 
That  loftier  faith  be  given ; 

Her  broken  reeds  all  swept  away. 
That  she  may  lean  on  Heaven  ; 

Her  soul 
Grow  strong  in  trust  of  Heaven. 

All  fearfully — all  tearfully. 

Alone  and  sorrowing, 
My  dim  eye  lifted  to  the  sky, 

Fast  to  the  Cross  I  cling, — 
Oh,  Christ ! 

To  thy  dear  cross  I  cling. 


A   MEMORIAL.  14I 

The  summer  wore  away,  and  the  hour  of  Mr. 
Ranney's  release  from  his  enforced,  protracted  voyage 
came  to  a  close.  Nearly  five  months  had  elapsed  since 
the  shadows  of  the  Burman  mountains  had  ceased  to 
fall  upon  Dr.  Judson,  who  loved  them  for  the  sake  of 
the  souls  they  sheltered.  Now  it  is  known  that  he  is 
no  more,  and  the  shadows  are  all  her  own,  deepened  by 
a  sense  of  bereavement  such  as  few  are  capable  of  ex- 
periencing. Her  almost  constant  illness,  that  had  re- 
duced her  to  a  skeleton,  and  the  sickness  of  the  family 
and  its  cares,  had  rendered  the  summer  distressful  in- 
deed; and  all  now  culminated  with  "the  last  blow," 
the  loss  of  her  ''guide."  "  I  can  think  of  nothing,"  she 
writes,  "  and  see  nothing,  but  the  black  shadows  that 
have  fallen  upon  my  own  heart  and  life." 

Four  years,  in  which  to  become  a  bride  and  twice  a 
mother,  to  sail  half  way  around  the  globe,  guide  a 
home  and  motherless  children  in  heathen  cities,  to 
pass  twice  through  the  shadow  of  death,  write  a  book, 
learn  a  language  and  translate  considerably  for  native 
Christians,  conduct  Bible-class  and  praj^er-meetings  for 
the  natives,  care  for  a  husband  whose  life  is  going  out 
— this  is  much  in  the  time  and  for  the  day  in  which  it 
was  done. 

A  cultivated  woman  in  a  heathen  land,  patiently 
performing  duty,  exemplifying  before  the  eyes  of  the 
indolent  and  vicious  the  virtues  of  industry  and  chari- 
ty, and  looking  well  to  the  ways  of  her  household,  is 
a  gift  to  the  country  of  inestimable  value.  And  when 
to  all  this  is  added  the  character  of  missionary,  an- 
other element  of  good  comes  into  the  reckoning;  its 
exact  worth  being  determined  by  the  place  she  fills 
and  the  need  she  supplies. 


142  KMII^Y   C.  JUDSON. 

Mrs.  Judson  had  a  very  difficult  station.  As  the 
wife  of  the  pride  of  the  American  churches,  and  the 
successor  of  "two  such  women,"  she  must  meet  a  very 
unusual  demand.  As  a  stepmother,  she  must  be  blame- 
less. As  an  intellectual  woman,  she  must  instruct  the 
ignorant  and  supply  literary  helps  when  required ;  and 
with  it  all  she  must  maintain  her  old  friendships,  and 
gratify  the  loved  in  America  with  full  and  frequent  de- 
scriptions of  the  East.  Her  fame  as  an  author  had  lost 
its  charm,  and  now  she  must  sustain  the  loves  and 
cares  of  home-life,  using  her  pen  when  it  would  serve 
the  purpose. 

In  the  height  of  her  career  as  a  story-writer  she 
drew  an  artless  and  truthful  picture  of  "The  Unuse- 
ful,"  in  the  character  of  Nora  Maylie,  which  conclud- 
ed in  the  following  words :  "She  cheered,  she  encour- 
aged, she  smoothed  difficulties,  she  soothed  peevish- 
ness, and  softened  heartlessness ;  her  loving  spirit 
stealing  unobserved  on  all,  and  distilling  its  own  dews 
over  the  whole  household."  Such  is  the  really  useful; 
under  the  popular  ban  because  it  is  not  other  than 
it  is.  In  writing  the  sketch,  Mrs.  Judson  defended  a 
class  that  is  not  much  appreciated  in  the  great  busi- 
ness world,  where  material  things  have  such  suprema- 
cy. One  can  easily  imagine  that  she  was  feeling  the 
sting  of  some  "practical"  person's  remarks,  and  per- 
haps wrote  in  self-defense. 

From  the  present  view-point  there  can  scarcely  be 
a  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  her  usefulness  in  India  during 
the  illnesses  of  her  family,  and  particularly  in  the  clos- 
ing months  of  Dr.  Judson's  grand  but  painful  career. 
Though  sometimes  too  weak  to  lift  her  own  babe,  she 


A   MEMORIAL.  143 

had  a  valiant  spirit  that  imparted  strength  to  others 
by  its  own  potent  contact.  She  had  learned  the  art 
of  cheering  friends  amid  the  severities  of  a  New  York 
climate  and  the  obstinate  pressure  of  poverty.  She 
could  give  an  artiste's  touch  to  grotesque  and  even 
horrid  things,  trick  a  dungeon  into  a  drawing-room, 
and  dull  the  edge  of  pain. 

How  can  any  one  read  her  full  and  affecting  ac- 
count of  her  husband's  last  days  and  not  feel  that  she 
saw  the  best  of  the  experience  and  spoke  only  of  that; 
filled  his  soul  with  good  cheer  for  the  final  conflict ; 
kept  her  own  woes  in  the  background,  and  sent  him 
away  in  lively  hope  of  health  or  heaven  ?  What  better 
in  such  an  hour  than  such  an  angel  of  sympathy  ?  He 
had  no  need  of  a  preacher  to  stand  over  him  and  labo- 
riously strive  to  justify  the  ways  of  God,  or  vindicate 
eternal  providence.  A  song  was  preferable  to  a  ser- 
mon, and  the  buoyant  songster  to  the  sermonizer. 
And  the  disposition  that  caused  the  youthful  Emily  to 
run  a  mile  '*  as  fleetly  as  her  small  feet  would  carry 
her,"  to  get  a  pinafore  of  roses  to  shower  upon  the 
death-bed  of  her  sister  Lavinia  was  the  same  that  in 
its  maturity  brightened  up  the  ''blessing"  of  her  In- 
dian home  when  about  to  take  his  flight. 

Her  youthfulness  was  not  a  misfortune  in  this  dark 
hour.  She  was  not  too  young  for  Dr.  Judson,  who 
needed  her  compensating  buoyancy  in  his  increasing 
debility.  It  was  to  her  that  he  spoke  those  triumphant 
v>^ords  that  seldom  fail  to  draw  tears,  no  matter  how 
often  read :  "1  suppose  they  think  me  an  old  man,  and 
imagine  it  is  nothing  for  one  like  me  to  resign  a  life  so 
full  of  trials.    But  I  am  not  old — at  least  in  that  sense ; 


144  KMILY    C.  JUDSON. 

you  know  I  am  not.  O,  no  man  ever  left  this  world 
with  more  inviting  prospects,  with  brighter  hopes  or 
warmer  feelings — warmer  feelings,"  he  repeated,  and 
burst  into  tears.  His  face  was  perfectly  placid,  even 
while  the  tears  broke  away  from  the  closed  lids,  and 
rolled,  one  after  another,  down  to  the  pillow. 

The  part  that  Mrs.  Judson  had  in  that  victory  may 
not  be  recognized  by  all,  as,  doubtless,  it  was  not  by 
herself;  yet  the  hand  that  smoothes  the  pillow  and 
lays  the  roses  upon  it  is  not  the  least  of  the  benedic- 
tions of  a  dying   hour,  especially  in  a  heathen  land. 

After  months  of  suspense  and  loneliness  the  heavy 
tidings  came,  by  way  of  Calcutta.  They  were  com- 
municated by  a  Scotch  clergyman  of  that  city,  who 
w^as  himself  painfully  anticipating  this  stroke  upon  the 
general  cause  of  missions  in  the  East,  and  who  accom- 
panied the  news  with  heartiest  expressions  of  sorrow 
and  sympathy.  She  likewise  was  favored  with  the 
extraordinary  condescension  of  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Cal- 
cutta, who  some  time  afterward  was  in  Maulmain,  and 
called  to  offer  his  condolence  on  her  great  loss,  pre- 
senting her  also  with  a  copy  of  the  Bible. 

The  first  question  of  a  serious,  practical  nature, 
incident  to  widowhood,  occurred  to  her  immediately 
and  with  special  pressure — what  to  do!  Dr.  Judson 
had  expressed  the  wish  that  in  case  of  his  death  she 
should  return  to  America  with  the  children ;  and  this 
course  would  naturally  be  considered  before  any  other. 
But  she  viewed  the  situation  calml}^  and  took  time  to 
consider.  Although  the  future  was  dark,  and  her  heart 
heav}^  she  had  formed  the  usual  attachment  for  the 
object  to  which  she  had  consecrated  herself.     Those 


A   MEMORIAL.  145 

repulsive  creatures  whom  she  was  trying  to  benefit 
assumed  a  certain  attractiveness  the  moment  she 
thought  of  leaving  them;  and  the}'  manifested  the 
deepest  interest  in  her  as  a  guide  and  instructor. 

But  the  advice  of  the  missionaries,  and  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  finall}^  formed  the  verdict  in  favor 
of  return.  Her  grief  at  the  decision  was  mitigated  only 
by  a  conviction  of  its  reasonableness.  In  a  letter  to 
her  friend  Miss  Anable,  to  whose  arms  she  was  only 
too  glad  to  fly,  especially  when  in  trouble,  she  ex- 
presses her  feelings  as  follows :  "  My  heart  is  here — I 
love  the  missionaries,  love  the  work,  and  love  the  pre- 
cious Christians  that  have  been  accustomed  to  gather 
round  me  for  prayer  and  instruction.  They  sobbed 
like  so  many  children  when  I  announced  my  purpose 
of  returning.  My  knowledge  of  the  language  is  too 
important  to  be  thrown  away,  and  my  knowledge  of 
the  character  and  habits  of  the  people  is  probably 
(from  peculiar  circumstances)  greater  than  that  of 
many  who  have  been  longer  in  the  field.  But  the 
state  of  my  health  and  the  good  of  the  children  require 
a  sacrifice  of  feeling  which,  from  your  distance,  you 
will  be  unable  to  appreciate." 

Again,  to  the  same,  after  the  lapse  of  three  months : 
"  Weary  and  desolate — weary,  worn  and  desolate — Oh, 
Anna  Maria,  my  path  is  mantled  by  the  very  '  black- 
ness of  darkness.'  I  am  on  the  eve  of  embarkation ; 
one  day  more,  and  I  leave  my  loving,  s^^mpathizing 
friends  here,  to  plunge  into  the  midst  of  strangers. 
How  well  fitted  I  am  for  the  long  and  lonely  voyage 
you  will  imagine  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  not  been 
able  to  enter  the  nearest  mission  house  since  that  fatal 


146  KMII.Y   C.  JUDSON. 

April  but  once,  and  then  (two  weeks  since)  it  brought 
on  a  relapse,  from  which  I  am  still  suffering.  My  Cal- 
cutta friends  write  me  kindly — tenderly  even— and 
though  they  are  strange  friends,  God  may  see  fit  to 
turn  their  hearts  toward  me — I  don't  know.  It  is  bet- 
ter, of  course,  to  look  altogether  above  the  world,  but 
that  is  scarcely  possible  while  in  it.  O,  for  the  rest  of 
the  people  of  God !  I  sometimes  feel  that  it  would  be 
delightful  to  share  his  grave — but  then,  the  children !" 

Two  days  after  writing  in  this  strain  Mrs.  Judson, 
"with  aching  heart  and  tearful  eye,  bade  adieu  to 
Maulmain,  the  scene  of  her  happiest  and  wretchedest 
hours."  She  had  seen  much  in  four  years.  She  had 
lived  in  both  Rangoon  and  Maulmain.  Ann  never  saw 
Maulmain ;  Sarah  never  saw  Rangoon.  On  the  other 
hand,  Emily  never  saw  Ava  nor  Oung-pen-la ;  neither 
did  she  thread  the  jungles  with  an  expiring  husband. 
But  she  lived  in  Bat  Castle,  the  "Green  Turban's 
Den,"  and  saw  her  dying  husband  borne  away  to  the 
voracious  sea,  with  no  hope  of  meeting  him  again  in 
this  world.  She  toiled,  had  patience,  did  not  faint, 
and  He  who  holds  the  seven  stars  in  his  right  hand 
knows  her  works. 

On  the  22d  of  January,  1851,  she  commenced  the 
long  voyage  to  America — herself,  three  children,  and  a 
Burmese  servant  girl.  Early  in  February  she  reached 
Calcutta,  by  way  of  which  city,  though  out  of  the  way, 
home-going,  as  well  as  coming,  generally  must  be 
done.  There  she  experienced  the  customary  deten- 
tion of  some  weeks  ere  an  English  or  American  vessel 
could  be  secured.  But  it  was  for  her  profit,  and  might 
have  been  for  her  pleasure  had  she  not  "  grown  more 


A   MEMORIAL.  147 

and  more  poorly  every  day,"  and  been  prevented  from 
visiting  Serampore  and  becoming  acquainted  with  the 
missionaries  and  their  work  there.  In  Calcutta  she 
received  every  kindness  needed,  and,  on  Dr.  Judson's 
account,  a  donation  of  three  thousand  rupees  ($1,500) 
from  gentlemen  of  different  religious  sects.  This  "Jud- 
son  Testimonial"  she  used  in  defraying  her  expenses 
to  America.  She  embarked  February  24th  on  the  ship 
Tudor  for  I^ondon;  one-half  of  the  above  amount 
being  required  for  passage  thus  far.  Dr.  Kendrick 
briefly  and  happily  mentions  the  vo3'age  as  follows: 
*'The  captain  was  unweariedly  attentive;  her  fel- 
low-passengers courteous  and  respectful;  and  a  Mrs. 
Thomas  especially,  though  a  brilliant  woman  of  the 
world,  yet,  by  her  unaffected  sympathy  and  warm- 
heartedness, as  well  as  by  her  intelligence,  won  a 
large  place  in  the  heart  of  the  stricken  widow.  Mrs. 
Thomas'  husband  was  not  with  her,  and  Mrs.  Judson 
wrote  for  her — as  an  address  to  him  in  his  absence — the 
little  poem,  '  Alone  upon  the  deep,  love.'  She  gazed 
sadly  upon  the  receding  shores  of  India ;  caught  for 
the  last  time  *  the  spicy  breezes '  that  blow  from  those 
groves  of  balm  and  islands  clothed  with  eternal  sum- 
mer, and  once  more  the  Southern  Cross  looked  down 
upon  her — but  with  a  deeper,  sadder  meaning  than 
when  she  first  gazed  on  it  through  the  glowing  atmos- 
phere of  hope.  Its  strange,  blended  lesson  of  severitj 
and  kindness  she  thus  sweetly  interpreted  "  : 

TO  THE  SOUTHERN  CROSS. 

Sweet  empress  of  the  southern  sea, 
Hail  to  thy  loveHness  once  more ! 

Thou  gazest  mournfully  on  me, 
As  mindful  we  have  met  before. 


148  KMILY  C.  JUDSON. 

When  first  I  saw  the  Polar  Star 

Go  down  behind  the  silver  sea, 
And  greeted  thy  wild  light  from  far, 
-    I  did  not  know  its  mystery. 

My  Polar  Star  was  by  my  side, 
The  star  of  hope  was  on  my  brow ; 

I've  lost  them  both  beneath  the  tide, — 
The  cross  alone  is  left  me  now. 

Not  such  as  thou,  sweet  Thing  of  stars. 
Moving  in  queenly  state  on  high ; 

But  wrought  of  stern,  cold  iron  bars, 
And  borne,  ah  me!  so  wearily! 

Yet  something  from  these  soft,  warm  skies 
Seems  whispering  "Thou  shalt  yet  be  blest!" 

And  gazing  in  thy  tender  eyes, 

The  symbol  brightens  on  my  breast. 

I  read  at  last  the  mystery 

That  slumbers  in  each  starry  gem ; 

The  weary  pathway  to  the  sky — 
The  iron  cross — the  diadem. 

After  pleasantly  voyaging  for  three  months,  in 
which  time  she  had  gained  greatly  in  health — had 
recovered  her  appetite  and  the  complexion  of  her 
better  days — the  ship  reached  Cape  Town.  The  heavy 
gales  encountered,  during  which  she  and  others  were 
shut  up  in  darkened  cabins,  proved  a  benefit  to  her. 
The  passengers  said  that  the  fairies  had  changed  her. 
And  this  improvement  was  partly  due  to  the  care  of 
the  captain.  *'  His  attentions  to  us  who  have  no  pro- 
tectors," she  says,  "are  not  merely  the  attentions  of  a 
courteous,  gentlemanly  commander,  but  the  thought- 
ful watchfulness  of  a  brother  or  husband."  This  kind- 
ness, and  the  society  of  Mrs.  Thomas,  gave  her  a  great- 
ly increased  regard  for  the  English  people. 


A   MKMORIAI,.  149 

The  Tudor  remained  in  port  at  Cape  Town  a  few 
days,  giving  Mrs.  Judson  an  opportunity  to  go  ashore 
and  enjoy  the  society  of  the  foreign  residents  there. 
She  speaks  of  "  getting  ready  for  a  dinner  party,  three 
miles  out  of  town,  at  the  fashionable  after-dark  hour"; 
a  relief  to  the  severities  of  the  months  previous,  that 
must  have  been  very  beneficial  to  her  mind  and, 
therefore,  to  her  general  health. 

The  vessel  weighed  anchor  about  the  first  of  June 
and  reached  London  about  the  middle  of  August,  when 
she  found  her  health  greatly  improved,  as  she  sup- 
posed, while  "  the  sallow  Indian  cheeks  of  her  children 
were  beginning  to  glow  with  English  roses."  Here 
she  remained  a  little  more  than  one  month;  and 
though  taking  quiet  lodgings  in  a  retired  quarter  of 
the  city,  the  large-hearted  English  who  were  in  sym- 
pathy with  missions,  and  with  herself  and  family  in 
particular,  took  her  under  their  own  care  and  made 
her  stay  delightful. 

On  the  20th  of  September  she  sailed  from  Liver- 
pool in  the  steamer  Canada,  and  reached  Boston  early 
in  October,  a  little  more  than  five  years  after  she  had 
left  that  city  for  the  East. 


150  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 


XII. 


S^xxihov^hip  ^g^ain—FOR  love  and 

FOR  LIFE. 

Everywhere  in  life  the  true  question  is,  not  what  we  gain, 
but  what  we  do. — Cari^yIvE. 

"  Seldom  can  the  heart  he  lonely 
If  it  seek  a  lonelier  still ; 
Self- forgetting,  seeking  only 
Emptier  cups  of  love  to  fill." 

ANEW  era  in  Mrs.  Judson's  singular  history  now 
begins,  and  it  is  the  last.  The  changes  in  her 
inner  life  were  by  no  means  the  least  of  those  she  had 
experienced.  Some  can  realize  how  such  an  overturn- 
ing of  plans  and  habits  as  she  had  passed  through  would 
affect  heart  and  mind.  There  was  the  sudden  interrup- 
tion of  her  literary  work,  the  surprising,  embarrassing 
offer  of  marriage,  the  hasty  consummation  of  her  nup- 
tials, the  early  departure  from  the  country,  the  sea  voy- 
age with  its  novelties  and  severities,  the  immediate  in- 
stallment as  mother  of  a  family,  and  in  a  land  where 
there  were  few  conveniences  and  few  sympathizers, 
the  repulsive  aspects  of  heathenism — sickness,  deaths, 
return — all  in  five  years!  Not  the  least  of  these  was 
the  transition  from  one  land  to  another,  and  back 
again ;  the  repeated  breaking  up  of  domestic  life  after 
the  feelings  had  become  as  firmly  settled  as  the  place 
of  residence  was  thought  to  be.     Such  experience  is 


A   MKMORIAI,.  151 

distracting,  and  sometimes  strands  the  subject  of  it, 
particularly  one  in  whom  the  affections  predominate. 
When  she  touched  again  the  shore  of  her  native 
land  she  had  to  recover  from  the  effects  of  five  years 
of  absence.  And,  with  other  changes,  she  now  found 
herself  at  the  head  of  a  family  of  six  children.  The 
three  oldest,  who  were  left  in  this  country  by  their 
father.  Dr.  Judson,  were  now  committed  to  her  care, 
while  the  three  younger,  with  the  Burmese  girl,  con- 
tinued with  her.  How  her  owm  lines,  written  in  her 
solitary  situation  in  Maulmain,  must  have  recurred  to 
her: 

" — helpless,  cowering  little  forms 

Cling  trustingly  to  me, — • 
Poor  babes ! 

To  have  no  guide  but  me." 

But  she  was  promptly  offered  a  home  for  Adoniram 
and  Klnathan  by  Dr.  Bright,  of  New  York,  and  she 
arranged  for  the  education  of  the  oldest  daughter, 
Abby,  by  Miss  Anable,  of  Philadelphia,  formerly  of 
Utica,  one  of  the  most  competent  teachers  in  the 
country.  She  then  proceeded  with  the  rest  of  the 
family  to  Hamilton,  where  her  parents  still  lived.  It 
was,  in  her  own  words, 

"  With  weary  foot  and  broken  wing, 
With  bleeding  heart  and  sore," 

that  the  songstress  now  perched  again  amid  the 
boughs  of  the  old  roof-tree.  But  her  sorrows  were 
not  without  the  compensating  joys  of  the  welcome. 
After  a  month  with  her  friends  at  Hamilton  she 
turned  again  to  the  serious,  the  labor-side  of  her  life. 
She  was  not  yet  ready  for  rest,  present  or  eternal,  not 


152  KMII,Y   C.  JUDSON. 

being  through  with  toil  nor  with  sickness.  The  Chris- 
tian world  wanted  a  lyife  of  Dr.  Judson,  and  the  sooner 
it  could  be  furnished  the  better.  Her  help  in  produc- 
ing it  was  indispensable,  though  so  competent  a  person 
as  Dr.  Francis  Wayland  had  been  engaged  to  write  it. 
To  perform  her  part  of  the  work  it  seemed  necessary 
that  she  go  to  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  where  she 
should  be  in  the  immediate  society  of  the  author,  and 
remain  there  until  it  had  been  thoroughly  planned,  if 
not  completed. 

In  making  the  journey  she  felt  it  to  be  very  desir- 
able to  go  by  way  of  Philadelphia  and  visit  friends 
there.  Accordingly  she  set  out  in  November,  and 
after  a  brief  sojourn  in  that  city  where  her  health  and 
her  reputation  had  been  so  well  cherished  she  reached 
the  city  of  Providence  by  the  time  winter  had  begun, 
and  took  lodgings  for  herself  and  the  three  children 
brought  from  India. 

Her  duties  were  of  a  very  taxing  nature :  Writing 
in  all  directions  for  letters,  documents  and  reminis- 
cences, which  work,  attended  as  it  was  with  delays  and 
unsatisfactory  replies,  must  have  been  exceedingly  try- 
ing. She  might  have  written  a  book  in  one-half  the 
time  required  for  compiling  one,  as  principal  or  as 
assistant.  '*  Armed  with  documents,  she  went  to  work, 
reading,  selecting,  copying,  digesting,  commenting, 
and  where  her  own  knowledge  availed,  filling  out  the 
deficient  materials,  thus  pioneering  the  path  of  the 
biographer.  The  industry  and  judgment  with  which 
she  performed  her  task  were  alike  remarkable.  So  ill 
that  she  could  write  but  a  few  hours  a  day,  and  then 
suffering  from  a  pain  in  the  side  which  made  writing  a 


A   MEMORIAL.  153 

torture,  she  wrought  steadily  on,  bending  into  shape 
and  preparing  for  use  the  intractable  materials."  Dr. 
Wayland  gave  her  a  very  high  commendation  for  her 
work. 

While  engaged  with  Dr.  Wayland  in  preparing  the 
Memoir,  Mrs.  Judson  was  necessarily  concerned,  also, 
in  the  care  and  culture  of  her  family,  in  maintaining 
correspondence  with  her  private  friends  and  the  friends 
of  missions,  and  in  battHng  with  the  insidious  disease 
that  was  slowly  but  surely  making  its  conquest  over 
her  system.  And  when  the  heaviest  of  her  work  on 
the  biography  was  done  she  began  to  give  attention  to 
what  seemed  important  to  her  financial  interests — the 
preparation  of  some  of  her  own  writings  for  the  press. 

She  first  made  a  collection  of  her  earlier  poems, 
and  of  some  later  ones,  the  fugitive  scintillations  of 
the  girl-mind  and  the  product  of  maturer  days.  While 
she  did  not  entertain  an  exalted  opinion  of  her  poetry, 
nor  pique  herself  upon  her  popularity',  she  felt  that 
there  was  a  possible  market  for  her  wares,  and  that 
the  exigencies  of  her  family  demanded  an  effort  to 
realize  from  them.  The  volume  was  modestly  en- 
titled "  An  OHo  of  Domestic  Verses."  And  she  says 
that  several  of  the  pieces  were  written  at  the  age  of 
twelve,  a  large  number  at  about  sixteen,  and  very  few 
of  the  later  ones  were  intended  to  go  beyond  the  fam- 
ily circle.  By  acts  of  partial  friendship  they  had  been 
preserved,  and  "  meeting  them  unexpectedly,  after  an 
interval  well  calculated  to  sweep  things  so  trivial  from 
memory,"  and  after  all  their  struggles  for  existence, 
she  thought  she  might  be  pardoned  for  giving  them  a 
chance.     They  were  a  "  spontaneous  growth,"  and  she 


154  KMII^Y   C.  JUDSON. 

claimed,  with  the  boy  of  school  memory,  "  I  didn't 
whistle,  sir;  it  whistled  itself."  The  writer  has  pos- 
sessed a  copy  of  the  Olio  ever  since  it  appeared,  and 
has  read  and  reread  it  with  great  delight.  It  contains 
as  genuine  "  veins  "  as  any  book  of  poems. 

Pending  the  completion  of  the  Olio,  Mrs.  Judson 
settled  the  vexed  question  of  a  place  of  permanent 
residence.  The  main  considerations  pointed  to  Hamil- 
ton, the  home  of  her  parents,  the  locality  of  her  fond- 
est associations,  a  seat  of  superior  schools,  and  a  retreat 
from  the  confusion  and  the  contingencies  as  to  health 
that  are  experienced  in  the  cities.  But  how  could  '*  the 
loggery  "  accommodate  so  many — the  Chubbucks  and 
Judsons  ?  The  necessity  for  more  room  gave  occasion 
for  a  new  purchase.  She  bought  a  commodious  home 
on  the  main  street,  in  the  best  part  of  the  town ;  the 
residence  of  Dr.  A.  C.  Kendrick  when  professor  in 
Madison  University. 

Hither  came  the  family,  as  now  constituted,  viz., 
the  mother,  Henry,  Kdward,  Emily  Frances,  and  the 
Burmese  girl.  The  other  three  children  were  else- 
where, being  cared  for  and  educated.  In  June,  her 
memorial  month,  even  in  her  own  death,  Mrs.  Judson 
took  possession  of  the  new  home  and  commenced 
housekeeping;  expecting  that  this  would  be  the  gath- 
ering place  of  the  entire  family,  and  that  here  she 
should  spend  the  remainder  of  her  life.  Her  parents, 
for  whom  she  had  expended  the  vigor  of  her  girlhood, 
and  who  had  rested  on  her  heart  as  a  sweet  burden 
during  all  the  intervening  time,  were  now  stooping 
low  by  the  weight  of  years,  and  needed  her  even  more 
than  ever  before.     She  was  only  too  glad  that  they 


A  MEMORIAL.  155 

had  one  to  lean  upon,  though  the  staff  had  been  weak- 
ened through  the  prejdng  of  unconquerable,  life-long 
disease. 

In  August  (1852)  the  Olio  was  given  to  the  pubHc, 
and  in  September  a  second  edition.  It  had  a  good 
start,  aided  by  special  efforts  to  circulate  it  in  the  town 
and  the  University.  But  when  the  region  of  her  ac- 
quaintance was  supplied  the  best  of  her  field  was  ex- 
hausted; and  this  fact,  taken  with  the  small  royalty 
paid  to  authors,  accounts  for  the  smallness  of  her  in- 
come from  the  sales.  The  Alderbrook  was  still  sell- 
ing, and  the  Memoir  of  Sarah  B.  Judson  had  been 
made  over  to  her  by  the  Missionary  Union.  Also,  she 
had  a  small  income  from  Dr.  Judson's  estate.  But  she 
had  declined  to  accept  the  customary  allowance  of  the 
Board  for  the  widows  of  missionaries,  and  all  her 
sources  of  supply  were  insufficient  to  meet  the  ex- 
penses of  her  now  large  family. 

Thus  she  was  still  confronted  with  her  old  "  des- 
tiny"— eating  bread  in  the  sweat  of  her  face,  and  sup- 
plying it  to  others  by  the  same  means.  She  was 
familiar  with  an  aching  head,  late  hours,  rejected  man- 
uscripts and  tears  of  disappointment,  and  she  could 
not  reasonably  anticipate  the  rising  of  any  ghost  that 
she  had  not  at  some  time  downed.  So  she  buckled 
up  the  armor  and  launched  anew  into  authorship.  She 
first  prepared  a  volume  which  she  believed  would  pro- 
mote the  cause  of  missions,  while  it  might  yield  her 
something  for  her  work.  The  public  had  not  ceased 
to  criticise  and  bemean  the  foreign  mission  enterprise, 
and  she  was  in  a  very  suitable  state  of  mind  to  reply 
to  some  of  the  critics  who  were  ventilating  their  opin- 


156  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

ions  in  the  leading  periodicals  of  the  day.  This  vol- 
ume was  designed  for  such  persons. 

Its  leading  chapter,  "  The  Kathayan  Slaved'  which 
depicts  the  incredible  brutality  practiced  in  the  death- 
prison  at  Ava,  during  the  imprisonment  of  Dr.  Judson, 
gives  name  to  the  book.  Then  follows  the  ' '  Madness 
of  the  Missionary  Enterprise,"  a  lofty,  overwhelming 
answer  to  the  sneers  of  the  Uiiitarian  Review,  Edin- 
burgh Review y  New  York  Express,  Boston  Transcript, 
and  other  pretentious  "  reviewers  "  of  the  mission  cause 
in  the  East.  The  latter  was  first  written  for  The  Mac- 
edo7iian,  a  bright,  little  monthly  which  many  remem- 
ber. It  is  stated  that  it  drew  its  inspiration  from  the 
tomb  of  Ann  H.  Judson,  beside  which  it  was  composed 
during  a  month's  stay  at  Amherst  with  her  sick  hus- 
band. "It  is  a  most  beautiful  and  eloquent  plea  for 
missions — an  argument  of  masculine  cogency,  distilled 
in  the  alembic  of  a  woman's  heart."  Other  parts  of 
the  book  have  a  similar  intent  and  adaptedness,  verse 
alternating  with  prose,  and  the  whole  constituting  an 
entertaining  and  informing  little  volume  that  deserved 
a  wider  circulation  than  it  obtained. 

Of  the  poetic  pieces  included  in  "The  Kathayan 
Slave"  one  will  take  rank  among  the  most  pathetic 
contributions  to  the  literature  of  missions — "  Mee 
Shway-ee."  It  versifies  the  sad,  dreadful  history  of  that 
little  slave-child  who  was  rescued  by  "  a  messenger  of 
Jesus,"  and  shows  one  direction  that  loving  mission- 
ary effort  takes.  The  circumstances  giving  rise  to  the 
poem  deeply  affected  Mrs.  Judson,  and  it  being  one  of 
her  most  rhythmical  productions  she  taught  it  from 
her  bed  of  sickness  to  her  little  daughter, ''  My  Bird," 


A   ME^MORlAlv.  157 

who  Still  bears  in  memory  and  heart  its  touching  sen- 
timents of  pity  and  love.  As  it  is  out  of  print  it  is 
here  given,  for  the  pleasure  of  the  reader : 

MKE  SHWAY-EE. 

In  the  tropic  land  of  Burmah, 

Where  the  sun  grows  never  old, 
And  the  regal-browed  palmyra 

Crowns  her  head  with  clouds  of  gold, 
On  a  strange,  wild  promontory, 

Close  beside  the  rushing  sea, 
Listening  ever  to  the  billows, 

Dwelt  poor  little  Mee  Shwa^^-ee. 

But  along  the  sandy  sea-shore, 

Or  amid  the  foliage  green. 
Stringing  rows  of  crimson  berries 

Was  the  maiden  never  seen 
Never  twined  she  her  black  tresses 

With  the  golden  mazalee  ; 
For  a  wild  and  woe-marked  slave-child 

Was  poor  little  Mee  Shway-ee. 

And  when  in  the  hush  of  twilight 

Rose  a  startling  eldritch  cry, 
Answered  by  the  gray-winged  osprey, 

Plunging  seaward  from  the  sky. 
Then  the  village  wives  and  maidens, 

As  they  glanced  from  roof  to  sea. 
Whispered  of  a  human  osprey. 

And  poor  writhing  Mee  Shway-ee. 

But  a  messenger  of  Jesus — 

Him  who,  centuries  ago. 
Bared  his  bosom  to  the  arrow 

Winged  by  human  guilt  and  woe. 
And  then  said, "  Go  preach  my  gospel ! 

IvO  !  I'm  evermore  with  thee  "  ; — 
One  who  served  this  blessed  Jesus, 

Found  poor,  trembling  Mee  Shway-ee — 


158  KMII.Y  C.  JUDSON. 

Found  her  wan  and  scarred  and  bleeding, 

Mad  with  agony  and  sin  ; 
So  love's  arms  were  opened  widely, 

And  the  sufferer  folded  in. 
Tender  fingers  soothed  and  nursed  her, 

And  'twas  wonderful  to  see 
How  the  winning  glance  of  pity 

Tamed  the  elf-child,  Mee  Shway-ee. 

For  beneath  those  drooping  eyelids 

Shone  a  human  spirit  now. 
And  the  light  of  thought  came  playing 

Softly  over  lip  and  brow ; 
But  her  little  footstep  faltered, — 

Beamed  her  eye  more  lovingly, — 
And  'twas  known  that  death  stood  claiming 

Gentle,  trusting  Mee  Shway-ee 

But  to  her  he  came  an  angel, 

Throned  in  clouds  of  rosy  light — 
Came  to  bear  her  to  that  Savior 

Who  had  broke  her  weary  night ; 
And  with  smiles  she  sought  His  bosom ; 

So,  beside  the  rushing  sea, 
'  Neath  the  weeping  casuarina, 

Laid  they  little  Mee  Shway-ee. 

It  can  not  be  doubted  that  Mrs.  Judson's  ability  as 
a  writer  was  of  great  importance  to  the  cause  of  mis- 
sions. She  occupied  a  sphere  of  service  in  which  la- 
bor was  much  needed  in  her  time,  and  is  still  needed. 
And  she  did  not  play  with  the  subject ;  she  compre- 
hended it,  and  her  writing  was  "  argument  running 
molten  in  a  tide  of  holy  passion."  Her  talent  helped 
to  form  the  diversity  of  gifts  demanded  then  and  now. 
Which  kind  is  most  serviceable,  it  is  not  in  man  to 
determine. 


A   MEMORIAL.  159 

In  connection  with  her  writing  in  behalf  of  mis- 
sions she  performed  another  piece  of  work  that  drew 
heavily  upon  her  heart.  It  was,  probably,  her  last  trib- 
ute of  a  literary  character  to  the  Chubbuck  family.  It 
was  a  labor  of  love,  answering  alike  the  requirement 
of  her  affections  and  sense  of  justice  to  the  memory  of 
the  loved  and  lost,  and  more  especially  the  desires  of 
her  mother,  who  had  such  a  proper  pride  in  her  chil- 
dren. It  was  a  memorial  of  Lavinia,  the  flower  of  the 
family,  and  of  her  younger  sister  Harriet,  scarcely  less 
remarkable.  The  materials  of  a  Life  of  the  former 
had  once  been  gathered,  and  lost.  Twenty-four  years 
had  passed  since  her  death.  Emily,  her  protege,  had 
reached  the  eminence  toward  which  she  had  been  led 
by  her  judicious  instructions;  she  had  attained  posi- 
tion in  both  the  literary  and  religious  world,  had  com- 
passed the  hemisphere  and  returned,  had  seen  the  glo- 
ries and  the  deformities  of  different  continents,  and 
now  was  back  in  the  mother-nest,  thinking  over  the 
hard  experiences  of  other  years  and  the  virtues  of 
those  absent  from  the  body  and  present  with  the  Lord. 

On  a  bright  June  morning  in  1853 — June,  of  course, 
to  tally  with  events — the  little  horse  and  wagon,  so 
familiar  to  students  and  town  people,  drew  up  to  the 
door.  Mrs.  Judson,  with  her  mother  and  sister  Kate, 
took  seats  for  a  drive.  "  Simple  Susey,"  their  "dumb 
friend,"  was  able,  through  some  encouragement,  to  meet 
the  draft  made  upon  her  by  the  great  hill  (known  in 
the  first  part  of  this  book  as  the  "range  on  the  west") 
which  intervened  between  Hamilton  and  "  Log  City," 
as  Eaton  was  called  in  olden  times.  The  village  church, 
the  first  sanctuary  that  Mrs.  Judson's  childhood  feet 


l6o  EMIIvY   C.  JUDSON. 

ever  entered,  was  passed,  then  the  stream  in  which  her 
parents  and  I^avinia  were  baptized,  and  soon  the  old 
grave-yard,  their  objective  point,  was  reached  and  en- 
tered. Changes  required  some  searching  for  the  grave. 
When  found,  and  while  the  little  party  was  sorrowing 
anew,  a  promise  was  evoked  that  the  writer  in  the  fam- 
ily would  yet  bring  out  the  shining  life  of  the  one  who 
had  lain  there  a  quarter  of  a  century.  It  was  done; 
and  with  it  was  coupled  an  account  of  her  sister  Har- 
riet, equally  promising,  who  died  two  and  a  half  years 
later  than  Lavinia. 

In  the  year  following  this  visit  Mrs.  Judson  pro- 
duced the  little  volume  entitled  "  My  Two  Sisters,"  and 
it  was  published  by  Ticknor,  Reed  &  Fields,  of  Bos- 
ton. It  was  one  of  those  domestic  offerings  that  show 
the  very  heart's  blood,  but  which  do  not  survive  the 
family.  It  is  so  very  touching,  and  even  instructive, 
that  one  who  is  interested  to  read  it  through  feels  quite 
disposed  to  linger  by  it  and  partake  of  its  sweet  melan- 
choly and  heavenly  influence.  The  reference  to  it  here 
is  the  more  justified  by  the  fact  that  those  two  sisters 
were  filled  with  the  missionary  spirit,  and  necessarily 
had  an  influence  in  favor  of  missions.  Mrs.  Judson 
says  that  there  was  something  in  the  subject  suited  to 
the  enthusiasm  and  resoluteness  of  Lavinia' s  character, 
as  well  as  to  her  elevated  faith,  her  warm  love  and  her 
high  views  of  Christian  duty;  and  that  her  prayers 
"  have  most  assuredly  fallen  back  in  floods  of  balm  on 
aching  brows  and  troubled  hearts."  And  of  Harriet, 
that  she  was  as  familiar  with  the  literature  of  missions, 
then  in  circulation,  as  with  the  geography  and  history 
of  her  own  country.    Both  longed  for  the  work  of  sav- 


A   MKMOKIAI,.  l6l 

ing  the  heathen,  and  did  something  toward  forming 
Emily's  convictions  respecting  the  same  work.  Why 
should  not  these  binary  stars  be  embalmed  in  a  mis- 
sionary memorial,  since  the}^  helped  to  make  mission- 
aries, as  have  many  others  whose  shining  is  too  far 
from  public  view  to  be  recognized? 

In  counting  all  the  precious  boons 

For  which  thanksgiving  feasts  are  spread, 

O  let  us  not  forget  that  chief 

Among  our  treasures  are  our  dead. 

Ivet  us  give  thanks  that  they  have  lived, 
And  on  our  lives  such  radiance  poured, 

That  with  the  sunshine  of  ihe  past 
Our  later,  lonelier  years  are  stored. 

And  that,  removed  from  longer  share 

In  these  brief  festivals  of  earth, 
We  feel  their  living  presence  still, 

The  angels  of  our  home  and  hearth. 

A  light  svirpassing  sun  or  star, 
A  breath  more  sv/eet  than  bursting  flowers, 

The  ministry  of  souls  beloved, 
Gone  hence,  and  yet  forever  ours. 

O  Father!  let  our  dearest  thanks 

Be  for  the  feast  immortal  said ; 
That  death  has  set  heaven's  lamps  aflame, 

And  Thou  art  nearer  through  our  dead. 

—Mrs.  F.  C.  Mace. 


l62  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

XIII. 

(&Veniitfe—PJ^£PAR/NG  FOR  REST. 

Day  dawns  before,  but  o'er  the  stream 
Heaven's  morning  shines  ;  then  how  will  seem 
The  way  so  short,  its  woes  a  dream ! 

E.  L.  E.— "  Steppmg  Heavenward'^ 

THIS  Memorial  has  thus  far  compassed  about  thir- 
ty-six most  eventful  years,  to  June  1853.  Yet,  some 
features  of  Mrs.  Judson's  character  remain  to  be  pre- 
sented, and  also  the  doings  and  experiences  of  the 
closing  period  and  her  joyful  release  from  earth.  It 
was  a  period  of  preparation  for  departure ;  setting  her 
house  in  order,  for  she  had  the  assurance  that  soon 
she  should  die. 

Her  estate,  though  not  large,  required  careful  man- 
agement. The  interests  of  her  family  and  parents  de- 
pended upon  it.  It  was  not  sufficient  that  she  care  for 
them  through  her  life-time ;  she  must  also  provide  for 
their  support,  if  possible,  after  her  busy  brain  should 
cease  its  earthly  activity.  The  parents,  now  old  and 
feeble,  were  more  incapable  than  ever  of  meeting 
their  own  wants,  while  the  Judson  children  must  be 
reared  and  educated  ere  they  would  be  prepared  for 
self-support.  To  make  the  necessary  provision,  en- 
feebled by  consumption  as  she  was,  required  a  regird- 
ing  of  the  mental  powers  that  had  served  her  so  well 
in  darker  days. 


A   MEMORIAI,.  163 

Her  possessions  consisted  of  the  honie  and  her  lit- 
erary writings,  with  the  copyright  of  Dr.  Wayland's 
Memoir  of  Dr.  Judson.  To  meet  the  responsibiHties 
mentioned,  all  must  be  made  available  to  those  depend- 
ent on  them.  And  with  death  staring  her  in  the  face 
she  began  the  work  of  final  preparation.  She  first 
gave  attention  to  the  forthcoming  Memoir.  Illness  in 
the  family  of  Dr.  Wayland,  together  with  her  famil- 
iarity with  the  subject  and  personal  interest  in  the 
work,  made  it  necessary  for  her  to  do  the  proof-read- 
ing and  to  aid  in  the  superintendence  of  the  publica- 
tion. In  about  three  months  from  the  time  the  revis- 
ion began,  the  work  came  from  the  press  in  two  large 
volumes.  The  sale  had  already  begun  by  subscrip- 
tion, and  she  was  permitted  to  enjoy  an  income  from 
it  in  the  last  months  of  her  life. 

The  fame  of  Dr.  Judson  had  excited  in  different 
publishers  a  desire  to  participate  in  the  pecuniary  ben- 
efits derivable  from  it.  Mrs.  Judson,  on  arriving  in 
this  country,  found  a  lyife  already  in  circulation.  She 
declined  to  recognize  it,  even  though  offered  fifty  dol- 
lars on  each  one  thousand  copies  sold,  knowing  that 
it  was  not  authentic  and  could  not  become  standard. 
And  now,  as  the  Wayland  Memoir,  prepared  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Missionary  Union,  was  coming  before 
the  public,  another  work  appears,  in  one  volume,  that 
seems  likely  to  interfere  greatly  with  her  revenue.  It 
aroused  the  combative  elements  of  her  nature,  and 
gave  her  occasion  to  show  that  a  poet  and  missionary, 
not  less  than  others,  could  contend  for  her  interests, 
even  from  a  sick-bed.  It  led  to  trouble  between  the 
publisher  and  his  critics,  which  was  not  ended  when 


l64  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

she  passed  away.  A  great  many  copies  were  disposed 
of,  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  its  circulation  interfered 
with  that  of  the  larger  work. 

In  three  or  four  months  after  the  broil  began,  Mrs. 
Judson,  by  advice  of  her  trusted  counsellors,  Drs. 
Bright  and  Wayland,  undertook  an  abridgment  of  the 
Memoir,  for  more  popular  circulation,  but  rapidly  fail- 
ing health  admonished  her  to  desist  the  task.  By  her 
request  the  work  was  carried  on  to  completion  by 
Mrs.  H.  C.  Conant. 

From  this  time,  February,  1854,  nothing  whatever 
appears  from  her  pen.  Her  work,  properly  so-called, 
was  done;  and  of  this  fact  she  became  conscious  as 
soon  as  her  friends.  She  would  not  strive  to  pass  the 
appointed  limit  of  labor  and  life  for  even  so  good 
an  object  as  the  embalmment  of  her  husband's  noble 
deeds  in  a  popular  biography.  She  had  contemplated 
death  for  so  long  a  time,  and  was  so  certain  of  its  near- 
ness now,  that  her  mind  readily  yielded  its  accustomed 
activities  when  it  appeared.  "Be  it  as  God  wills,"  said 
she;  "I  would  not  interfere  if  I  could." 

For  two  months  a  brother  conducted  her  corre- 
spondence, by  her  dictation.  Her  mind  continuing  to 
be  clear,  she  maintained  the  care  of  the  children,  and 
did  so  judiciously  and  affectionately,  not  discriminat- 
ing in  favor  of  her  own  child  in  any  of  her  bestow- 
ments.  Every  matter  of  interest  to  her  predecessor's 
children  awakened  her  profoundest  sympathies.  While 
she  had  the  power  she  performed  the  duty  of  corre- 
sponding with  the  absent  ones  in  respect  to  both  their 
temporal  and  eternal  interests ;  and  her  letters  show  a 
deep  insight  of  human  nature  and  clear  understanding 


A   MKMORIAI..  165 

of  Spiritual  realities.  vShe  rejoices  with  them  when 
they  rejoice  in  a  hope  in  Christ,  and  speaks  tenderly  to 
them  respecting  their  trials.  She  advises  them  as  to 
tempers  and  temptations,  and  with  a  clear  conception 
of  the  attributes  of  "the  man  Christ  Jesus"  she  was 
able  to  commend  them  to  His  helpful  sympathy. 

The  separation  of  the  children  had  been  partially 
made  some  time  previous  to  this  last  summer,  and  the 
older  ones  were  living  and  being  educated  elsewhere. 
With  patient  attention  to  the  case  of  each,  Mrs.  Jud- 
son  determined  their  several  homes,  that  their  circum- 
stances might  be  the  best  possible  after  she  should  die. 
Edward  obtained  a  cordial  and  comfortable  home  in 
the  family  of  Ebenezer  Dodge,  D.  D.,  late  president  of 
Madison  University,  where  he  received  care  and  train- 
ing for  ten  years.  He  became  an  instructor  in  the 
University,  and  subsequently  the  projector  of  the 
great  and  successful  enterprise  of  the  Judson  Memorial 
Church,  New  York  City.  His  own  mother  left  him 
in  the  tender  hands  of  others  at  Maulmain,  when  she 
made  her  last  voyage  for  health,  ending  in  the  harbor 
of  St.  Helena  and  the  haven  of  Eternal  Rest.  His 
step-mother,  also  departing,  fitted  him  out  and  saw 
him  take  his  course  toward  his  new  home,  peering 
from  its  wooded  inclosure  on  the  University  heights, 
escorted  by  his  little  brother  and  tiny  half-sister.  The 
trio  of  children  walked  hand  in  hand  to  the  appointed 
corner  where  they  were  to  part,  crossing  and  recross- 
ing  the  street  to  postpone  the  moment  of  parting,  as 
they  feared  that  they  should  not  see  each  other  any 
more.  Tw^o  came  back,  and  Edward,  "a  little  sickly, 
lonesome  boy,"  as  he  says,  was  met  at  the  door  by  the 


l66  KMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

good  Professor,  ''who  just  opened  those  great  arms  of 
his  and  folded  me  in."  It  was  but  a  small  domestic 
scene,  of  which  others  than  the  family  took  no  note, 
yet  it  expressed  much — the  wise  provision  of  one 
whose  heart's  blood  had  been  given,  from  her  youth, 
in  securing  homes  for  those  she  loved,  and  whose  fore- 
sight in  this  instance  may  have  determined  the  rise  of 
one  of  our  most  useful  and  honored  men. 

Emily  Frances,  her  own  daughter  and  Heaven-'s 
best  benediction  upon  her  Burman  home,  was  provided 
for  with  equal  prudence  and  love.  Her  life-long  and 
accomplished  friend,  Miss  Anable,  of  Philadelphia,  was 
chosen  to  rear  and  educate  her;  a  privilege  she  fully 
honored,  for  the  love  she  bore  to  the  child  and  to  the 
distinguished  mother.  After  a  few  years  the  toil-worn 
father  of  Mrs.  Judson  and  his  equally  toil-worn  help- 
meet passed  away,  and  their  comfortable  home  was 
left  to  the  remaining  daughter,  Kate,  who  at  this  writ- 
ing continues  to  live  in  Hamilton. 

As  already  intimated,  Mrs.  Judson  became  owner 
of  the  Memoir  of  her  husband.  Through  the  marked 
generosity  of  its  author  the  copyright  had  been  pre- 
sented to  her,  and  it  added  very  greatly  to  her  income. 
Dr.  Wayland,  in  declining  an  invitation  to  lecture, 
said :  "  I  am  engaged  in  Dr.  Judson's  Memoir,  which 
takes  all  my  time.  I  am  doing  it  for  the  widow  and 
the  orphan,  and  they  need  it."  He  afterward  said : 
"  It  has  taken  a  year  of  my  time  when  years  begin  to 
grow  few." 

In  closing  her  business,  Mrs.  Judson  remembered 
the  cause  of  missions  to  the  heathen  and  gave  it  the 
supreme  place  in  her  will.     The  orphanage  of  seven 


A    MEMORIAL.  167 

children  and  the  exile  of  the  native  Burman  girl  in  her 
home  were  calculated  to  touch  her  heart  when  about 
to  go  from  them  forever.  To  properly  honor  her  af- 
fections and  to  maintain  her  loyaUy  to  the  object  to 
which  she  had  consecrated  her  Hfe,  called  for  scrupu- 
lous if  not  perplexing  thought.  The  natural  inclina- 
tion to  bestow  upon  children  more  than  necessary 
seems  to  have  been  resisted;  not  permitted  to  come 
before  the  blessed  privilege  of  doing  for  those  who 
were  in  a  sadder  condition  than  that  of  orphans— 
who  were  lost.  Her  heart  and  her  judgment  were  in 
singular  unanimity  in  the  final  disposition. 

She  provided  a  Hfe  annuity  for  her  parents,  ample 
for  their  necessities.  Also  devised  that  the  children 
should  receive  amounts  sufficient  for  their  support  and 
education,  until  their  schooling  should  be  completed, 
whether  literary  or  professional,  or  both.  In  this  no 
discrimination  was  made  in  favor  of  her  own  daughter. 
All  shared  alike.  To  the  Burman  servant  she  gave  a 
sum  considerably  more  than  sufficient  to  pay  her  pas- 
sage back  to  her  home  in  India.  Then  the  Mission- 
ary Union  was  to  receive  the  residue.  At  that  time 
there  was  prospect  of  good  returns  from  the  publish- 
ers of  the  various  books  to  which  reference  has  been 
made;  but  this  income  has  no  doubt  greatly  diminished. 

By  turning  to  the  Treasurer's  reports  we  find  that 
her  benevolence  while  living  was  by  no  means  stinted. 
Such  entries  as  the  following  are  indicative  of  a  con- 
secration of  definite  returns  to  the  missionary  work : 
"  Mrs.  B.  C.  Judson,  for  money  received  from  publish- 
ers of  the  Memoir  of  Sarah  B.  Judson,  $132.12."  Ditto, 
the  following  month,  $112.77.     Again,  $517.83.     The 


l68  EMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

first  two  gifts  were  made  from  Maulmain,  in  the  sor- 
row and  uncertainty  of  her  first  months  of  widowhood. 
She  seems  to  have  had  the  full  development  of  the 
Judson  characteristic,  viz. :  Once  for  the  heathen,  al- 
ways and  all  for  the  heathen.  It  is  probable  that  she 
gave  more  to  the  Missionary  Union  than  it  ever  ex- 
pended on  her  account,  besides  the  support  rendered 
by  advocating  the  missionary  enterprise  in  her  writ- 
ings. 

The  time  for  her  removal  from  the  land  of  her 
affliction  came  steadily,  but  not  so  speedily  as  her 
friends  supposed  it  would.  True,  she  had  wasted  away 
until  she  seemed  as  one  dead,  and  her  faculties  had  lost 
their  cunning.  The  Spring  brought  no  revival  of 
strength  nor  renewal  of  vitality;  yet  it  gratified  her 
life-long  love  for  sunshine  and  flowers,  the  emblems  of 
the  glorified  life  to  which  she  was  going.  While  the 
"outward  man  "was  perishing,  the  inw^ard  was  being 
renewed.  Though  constantly  losing  ph3\sical  ability, 
she  was  continually  gaining  spiritual  strength;  so  that 
when  her  death  was  announced  as  very  near,  she 
quickly  rallied  from  the  slight  shock  it  gave  her,  as 
she  thought  of  helpless  parents  and  her  "  little  Emmy," 
and  was  very  soon  perfectly  composed  She  was  weary. 
For  a  life-time  she  had  not  been  free  from  care,  toil  and 
pain,  and  now  she  saw  the  release. 

She  had  been  fitted  by  her  sufferings  to  look  prop- 
erly upon  death  and  heaven.  "  It  is  not,"  she  said,  "the 
pearly  gates  and  golden  streets  of  heaven  that  attract 
me ;  it  is  its  perfect  rest  in  the  presence  of  my  Savior. 
It  will  be  so  sweet  after  a  life  of  care  and  toil  like  mine 
— though  a  very  pleasant  one  it  has  been,  and  I  am 


A   MEMORIAL.  169 

only  weary  of  the  care  and  toil  because  I  have  not 
strength  to  endure  them.  This  lack  of  strength  is 
dreadful.  I  have  been  wasted  to  a  mere  skeleton,  and 
suffered  the  most  excruciating  pain,  but  it  was  nothing 
in  comparison  with  my  present  sufferings."  Further: 
"  I  have  not  one  pain  to  spare.  I  feel  sure  that  God 
will  never  send  a  pain  that  I  do  not  really  need  to  fit 
me  for  the  rest  I  hope  to  enjoy  in  heaven.'' 

She  had  been  ill  during  so  much  of  her  life  that 
she  had  seen  occasion  to  cultivate  the  more  necessary 
virtues ;  and  these  were  brought  as  nearl}^  to  perfec- 
tion as  they  are  ordinarily  found-  to  be  in  this  world. 
She  triumphed  over  the  fear  of  the  grave,  and  over  the 
pain  of  separation  from  dependent  ones.  Like  one 
going  to  a  far  country,  expecting  to  be  followed,  but 
only  after  a  protracted  period,  she  was  anxious  to  make 
the  most  possible  of  existing  opportunities  for  in- 
dulging the  affections  and  preparing  for  the  separation. 
Each  morning  she  insisted  on  being  dressed  and  car- 
ried down  stairs,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  society  of  the 
loved  while  permitted  to  live. 

At  length  her  favorite  month  arrived — "  gladsome, 
joyous  June."  She  had  v\rished  to  die  in  this  month, 
and  confidently  expected  to  do  so.  God  had  shown 
his  regard  for  her,  his  suffering  saint,  by  revealing  to 
her  the  time  of  this  event.  His  secret  is  with  them 
that  fear  Him.  The  first  day  of  June  was  one  of  the 
loveliest  ever  known  in  the  lovely  village  of  Hamilton. 
Birds  and  flowers  vied  with  each  other  for  supremacy, 
and,  in  her  own  words,  "  the  rich,  warm  flush  of  sum- 
mer noon  rested  on  the  golden   hills." 

In  the  morning  she  vv^as  aroused  by  her  sister,  who 


lyo  EMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

inquired,  ''Emily,  do  you  know  that  it  is  June?" 
"Yes;  my  month  to  die."  "She  was  dressed,"  the 
account  continues,  "and  carried  down  stairs  as  usual; 
but  in  the  afternoon  one  of  her  terrible  attacks  of 
suffocation  came  on,  occasioned  by  the  utter  wasting 
of  her  lungs.  She  lingered  until  ten  in  the  evening 
in  great  agony;  the  pain  then  subsided,  and  after  a 
few  minutes,  sweetly  and  tranquilly,  without  a  groan 
or  the  movement  of  a  muscle,  she  breathed  out  her 
life  on  the  bosom  of  her  sister." 

On  the  following  morning,  Saturday,  announcement 
of  the  event  was  made  in  the  University  chapel,  ac- 
companied with  a  general  invitation  to  the  students  to 
visit  the  bereaved  home  during  the  day  and  take  a 
final  view  of  the  deceased.  It  was  fitting  that  those 
whose  appreciation  of  such  a  character  was  being  cul- 
tivated should  have  this  opportunity ;  and  one  by  one 
the  mournful  company,  who  had  heard  of  her  in  terms 
of  praise,  or  seen  her  in  w^eeds  in  the  sanctuary  on 
Sabbath  mornings,  filed  to  and  from  the  home  she  had 
rendered  so  precious  by  her  earnings  and  her  beautiful 
death.  The  institution  felt  that  the  genii  of  the  local- 
ity had  lost  their  star. 

The  Sabbath  came,  dawning  in  splendor  and  still- 
ness. Her  pew  was  vacant.  Early  in  the  afternoon, 
after  a  brief  service  at  the  home,  a  procession  of 
friends  bore  the  remains  northward,  along  the  walk  on 
the  west  side  of  the  main  street,  beneath  the  maples 
and  before  the  beds  of  flowers  that  regaled  the  living 
and  seemed  to  bedeck  the  dead.  Reaching  the  cem- 
etery, the  body  was  lowered  to  its  bed  in  the  lot  the 
deceased  herself  had  provided ;   then  the  company  re- 


A   MEMORIAL.  171 

turned  and  entered  the  church  to  complete  the  obse- 
quies. The  large  house  Vv^as  full,  floor  and  galleries. 
The  family  pew  and  those  adjoining  were  occupied  by 
the  relatives  and  immediate  sympathizers — the  Judson 
children,  Miss  Anable,  Dr.  Peck,  Corresponding  Secre- 
tary Missionary  Union,  and  others.  Rev.  George  W. 
Eaton,  D.  D.,  president  of  the  Theological  Seminary, 
preached  a  most  appropriate  and  impressive  sermon, 
on  the  words  ''But  some  have  fallen  asleep."  He 
gave  a  succinct  review  of  the  noble  career  of  Mrs. 
Judson,  with  which  he  had  been  fully  conversant,  and 
paid  a  just  tribute  to  her  many  virtues. 

A  short  time  previous  to  her  death  she  had  ordered 
to  be  placed  on  her  lot  in  the  cemetery  a  simple,  neat 
head-stone,  to  be  inscribed 

anO 
Bngcl  Cbaclcs. 

At  the  side  ot  this  simple  cenotaph,  after  her  burial 
there,  loving  hands  erected  a  similar  stone,  and  upon 
it  placed  the  expressive  words, 

2)eat  jemil^. 

Students  and  visitors  to  Hamilton  will  continue  to 
seek  the  quiet  spot  where  the  dust  of  Fanny  Forester 
reposes  and  flowers  bloom.  There,  too,  they  will  find 
the  graves  of  the  parents  for  whose  lives  she  gave  her 
youthful  powers,  and  who  early  followed  her  to  the 
Land  of  Rest. 

Hamilton  rejuvenates  year  by  year,  sloughing  off 
the  old  and  putting  on  the  new.  June  comes  at  her 
appointed  times  and  decorates  these  humble  graves, 


172  EMII,Y   C.  JUDSON. 

with  the  faithfuhiess  of  one  loving  and  loved.  The 
community  has  changed  again  and  again  ;  the  Univer- 
sity and  even  its  name,  have  changed ;  Alderbrook  is 
barely  a  name ;  but  Nature  maintains  her  identity  and 
Heaven  its  reality.  Others  have  come  upon  the  stage 
of  intellectual  action  and  justly  obtained  recognition, 
while  Emily  Chubbuck,  in  common  with  others  of 
great  merit,  is  cherished  by  the  diminishing  number 
who  remember  what  she  did,  or  by  those  who  may 
stum^ble  upon  a  copy  of  the  "Alderbrook "  or  the 
"Olio." 

More  than  one-third  of  a  century  has  passed  since 
that  beautiful  Sunday  on  w^hich  Hamilton  people 
thought  of  little  except  the  life  and  character  of  her 
whom  they  were  memorializing.  They  have  since 
followed  other  distinguished  persons  to  their  graves, 
and  she  has  receded  from  view^ ;  yet  equally  long  has 
she  been  developing  in  the  perfect  life,  amid  unfading 
glories.  Many  of  the  excellent  of  the  earth,  not  re- 
nowned, have  followed  her  from  the  same  church,  and 
the  stream  along  which  they  walk  and  the  fruits  they 
gather,  and  the  light  and  love  they  enjoy,  are  a  thou- 
sand-fold more  satisfying  than  perpetual  remembrance 
on  earth. 

There  is,  however,  a  reproductiveness  in  a  good  life 
which  adds  a  charm  to  history.  The  seeds  of  kindness 
find  a  lodgment  in  so  many  places  that  results  are 
perpetuated,  and  he  is  a  poor  observer  who  does  not 
discover  them.  Moreover,  the}^  are  very  ungrateful, 
and  losers  of  a  fine  inspiration,  who,  knowing  of  them, 
fail  to  so  enshrine  them  as  to  assure  their  permanent 
benefits  in  this  world.  The  good  fruit  will  be  greater 
as  the  memorials  are  better  preserved. 


A   MKMORIAL.  173 

The  author  can  scarcely  keep  back  the  statement 
that  his  admiration  for  the  character  of  Mrs.  Judson, 
strengthened  by  his  stay  at  Hamilton  during  her  last 
years,  was  a  motive  of  some  prominence  to  the  writing 
of  this  biography.  He  hopes  to  bring  it  to  the  atten- 
tion of  the  youth  of  this  country  for  their  study. 
Such  an  example  of  love  and  loyalty,  and  of  superior- 
ity to  circumstances,  must  not  be  allowed  to  pass  into 
oblivion.  Many  a  despairing  child  of  misfortune  see- 
ing it  may  take  heart  again. 

And  thus,  when  character  has  been  made,  there 
will  be  readiness  for  the  world's  work  and  opportunity 
to  obtain  its  highest  immunities.  The  cause  of  God 
and  of  man  is  constantly  demanding  true  power.  When 
ready  to  do  good  service,  the  door  will  open.  Good 
missionaries  are  made  of  those  who  have  quality ;  not 
of  such  as  may  be  conformed  to  a  particular  pattern. 
With  the  right  discipline  they  will  seize  an  occasion, 
meet  circumstances,  and  bring  something  to  pass. 
Had  Mrs.  Judson  been  favored  with  health  and  time, 
her  record  might  not  have  been  surpassed  among  the 
women  on  the  field.  She  took  hold  of  the  language 
with  zeal  and  zest,  and  made  rapid  headway  in  acquir- 
ing it;  was  able,  after  a  short  time,  to  render  Dr. 
Judson  aid  on  his  dictionary,  and  to  write  Burmese 
elegantly.  Her  sympathy  with  missionary  work  is 
best  conveyed  in  her  own  lines : 

To  loose  the  prisoned  flatterer's  wing, 
Touch  the  degraded  spirit's  spring. 
To  give  a  songster  to  the  sky, 
A  voice  to  swell  the  choir  on  high, — 
Oh,  if  there  be  for  man  a  bliss, 
Above  what  ans^els  feel,  'tis  this  ! 


174  KMII.Y    C.  JUDSON. 

A  very  just  and  appreciative  estimate  of  her  char- 
acter was  given  in  the  Missionary  Magazine,  after  her 
death,  undoubtedly  from  the  pen  of  the  accompHshed 
Secretary,  Dr.  Solomon  Peck.  The  following  is  an 
extract : 

Not  only  was  her  choice  of  a  missionary  life  made  from 
a  sense  of  religious  duty,  and  with  entire  simplicity  of  aim, 
but  it  must  be  said — in  justice  to  her  memory  and  on  the 
testimony  of  those  best  situated  to  form  an  intelligent 
judgment — that  for  it  she  had  evident  aptitude  and  quali- 
fication. The  comparative  brevity  of  her  term  of  service, 
and  the  quiet  uniformity  of  labor  in  which  her  husband 
was  for  the  most  part  engaged,  prevented  as  full  a  dis- 
closure of  these  qualities  as  might  have  been  made  under 
different  circumstances.  But  she  endeared  herself  to  her 
missionary  associates,  and  her  name  is  still  mentioned 
with  gratitude  by  Burmese  of  her  own  sex,  who  were  ob- 
jects of  her  affectionate  and  Christian  solicitude.  And  no 
one  who  compares  her  earlier  with  her  later  writings  can 
fail  to  see  how  the  great  enterprise,  to  which  her  life  was 
at  length  given,  at  once  heightened  their  tone  and  lent 
increased  weight  and  force  to  her  pen. 

Her  departure  was  tranquil,  as  it  had  been  long  ex- 
pected. Her  work  was  done — in  the  judgment  of  man, 
we  must  believe,  and,  we  may  hope,  in  the  sight  of  Him 
whose  favor  she  counted  the  supreme  good  of  her  soul — 
well  done. 


A   MEMORIAIv.  175 


XIV. 


^nppitmtniavvi—'' MADNESS  of  the 

MISSIONARY  enterprise:' 

"  Year  by  year,  and  sun  by  sun, 
Grows  the  work  of  Christ  begun  ; 

Heart  by  heart,  and  soul  by  soul, 
Speeds  the  bright  Millennial  goal ; 

Land  by  land,  and  sea  by  sea, 
Yields  the  shout  of  victory." 

THIS  tribute  of  honor  will  be  most  fittingly  concluded 
by  giving  parts  of  the  article  on  the  "  Madness  of  the 
Missionary  Enterprise";  the  first  and  the  last  para- 
graphs, omitting  the  main,  the  satirical  and  argumen- 
tative portions.  Let  it  be  remembered  that  fully  forty 
years  of  triumph  and  trophy  have  elapsed  since  they  were 
written.  Mrs.  Judson's  day  was  one  of  faith ;  ours  one  of 
sight.  How  well  she  honored  the  draft  upon  her  faith  the 
following  will  indicate: 

As  I  stood  not  long  since  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Hopia  tree,  overlooking  the  mouldering  ashes  of  one 
who,  in  the  words  of  the  early  Jerusalem  church,  had 
•'  hazarded  her  Hfe  for  Christ,"  and  as  I  thought  of  all 
she  had  suffered,  all  she  had  done  and  dared,  the  words 
of  her  reviewer  rushed  upon  my  mind  with  almost 
overpowering  force.  Boodhistic  temples  and  pagodas 
still  decorate  the  little  promontory  on  which  her  grave 
is  made ;  and  monks,  with  shaven  crowns  and  trailing 
yellow  robes,  still  promenade  the  streets,  and  are  rev- 


176  EMILY    C.  JUDSON. 

erenced  as  oracles  by  the  blinded  idolaters  of  Amherst, 
while  all  that  remains  to  tell  of  her  is  this  grassy 
mound  and  this  mildewed,  mossy  marble.  And  may 
it  not,  after  all,  be  true  that  her  sacrifice  was  vain — 
that  "  the  enterprise  was  uncalled  for,"  — "that  she  had 
better  have  remained  at  home?" 

>\:  ^1'  ^  :^fi  ^  ^ 

Is  this  wise? — is  it  reasonable? — will  it  do  any 
good  ? — inquires  the  stranger ;  and  while  he  sits  down 
to  doubt  and  cavil  and  search  for  lions  in  the  way,  the 
unquestioning  child  goes  away  and  does  the  Father's 
bidding.  That  which  is  madness  and  foll}^  in  the  eyes 
of  one,  is  regarded  by  the  other  as  but  a  simple,  affec- 
tionate, trustful  act  of  obedience  to  Him  who  has  the 
right  to  control  and  the  power  to  protect.  They  have 
no  fears  of  what  the  end  may  be  when  He  who  sees 
the  end  from  the  beginning  is  directing  them.  They 
have  not  to  experiment,  and  question,  and  tread  doubt- 
fully along  the  tangled  v/ilderness  of  life.  They  have 
a  great,  unerring  Guide,  and  it  is  their  glory  to  follow 
His  voice  and  cling  to  His  hand  through  v/hatever  He 
shall  choose  to  lead  them ;  to  believe,  to  trust,  to  re- 
joice in  Him,  even  in  the  midst  of  temporary  afflic- 
tions. And  thus  it  is  that  they  shrink  not  from  the 
privations  and  dangers  and  difiaculties  incident  to  His 
service,  feeling  it  their  highest  honor  to  be  permitted 
to  suffer  for  His  sake.  Oh,  the  love  of  Christ !  the  love 
of  Christ!  this  it  is  which  constitutes  the  spirit  and 
essence  of  missionary  devotion;  and  to  those  who 
have  never  drunk  from  the  delicious  fountain,  who 
have  not  yet  been  made  subjects  of  that  wondrous 
prayer,  "As  thou  hast  loved  me,"  it  may  well  be 
looked  upon  as  infatuation. 


A   MEMORIAI..  177 

But  "  what  has  been  the  fruit  of  all  these  labors 
and  sufferings — of  all  these  privations,  sacrifices,  sick- 
nesses and  deaths?"  Nothing  to  become  the  ground 
of  boasting,  certainly;  but  enough  to  make  all  heaven 
rejoice.  Simply  the  maturing  of  a  few  early  clusters 
of  grapes,  where  only  the  thorn-tree  grew ;  the  gather- 
ing of  a  few  golden  sheaves  from  the  arid  soil  which 
never  bore  even  a  blade  of  grass  before.  And  this  is 
surely  worth  the  labor,  if  only  as  the  precursor  of  a 
more  bountiful  harvest.  But  this  is  not  all  that  has 
been  done.  Behold  the  rivers  of  water  on  their  fertil- 
izing course  through  the  desert ;  look  upon  the  shores 
and  fields  laid  in  long,  rich  furrows  by  the  gospel 
plow-share,  or  stirred  and  leveled,  and  wetted  with  the 
dews  of  heaven,  waiting  for  the  sower's  coming !  And 
there  are  panting  hearts,  and  extended  hands,  and 
ready  feet,  waiting,  even  as  the  Master  wills  it,  to  scat- 
ter the  seed  or  gather  in  the  harvest. 

Ay,  go  traverse  America  from  the  borders  of  fair 
New  England  to  the  sounding  shores  of  the  Pacific ; 
count,  if  they  can  be  counted,  the  various  missionary 
organizations  that  have  sprung  up  within  the  last  half 
century.  Go  watch  the  movements  of  the  thousands 
and  tens  of  thousands  of  churches  by  which  Christen- 
dom is  bespangled,  and  see  with  what  simultaneous 
action  they  step  forth  to  the  support  of  the  mighty 
enterprise.  Nay,  look  even  at  the  female  sewing  cir- 
cle, the  Sunday  school  contribution,  the  infant's  penny 
box ;  for  know  that  such  are  the  tiny  rills  which  feed 
the  measureless  ocean.  Go  catch  the  watchword,  "To 
every  creature !  To  every  creature  !"  which  sounds 
forth  a  simultaneous  shout  from  missionarv  societies 


1 78  BMILY   C.  JUDSON. 

of  every  evangelical  sect;  for  this  one  point  admits  of 
no  jarring  or  discord.  Go  to  the  records  of  the  Bible 
Society  and  number  the  tribes  and  nations  who  have 
already  received  the  Word  of  God  in  their  own  tongue  ; 
then  turn  to  these  same  nations  and  see  them  quiver- 
ing like  the  leaves  of  November  before  the  invisible 
power  which  is  stealing  so  irresistibly  over  them.  Go, 
on  a  holy  Sabbath  morning,  and  follow  the  course  of 
the  sun,  as  he  rises  on  the  easternmost  port  of  China, 
till  he  climbs  over  the  rocky  hills  of  the  far  West  to 
garnish  the  infant  spires  of  Oregon  and  California. 
And  what  changes  have  not  fifty — thirty — ten — nay, 
five  years  wrought  throughout  that  Sabbath  track ! 
How  the  music  of  the  church-bells  thrills  upon  the 
Christian's  heart,  as  on,  from  port  to  port,  he  takes  his 
joyous  way!  How  few  and  inconsiderable  the  spots 
from  which  the  voice  of  prayer  and  praise  ascends  not, 
and  in  which  that  "I<ight  of  the  world,"  a  Christian 
church,  has  not  been  kindled. 

"And  what  may  reasonably  be  expected  to  be  the 
fruit?"  Ah!  that  is  a  theme  to  stir  the  golden  harps  of 
heaven  anew,  and  make  the  wide  earth  vibrate  to  the 
joyful  harmony.  It  looks  forward  to  a  time  when  the 
great  family  of  man  shall  be  united  in  one  holy  brother- 
hood; and  there  shall  be  no  more  war,  no  more  oppres- 
sion and  cruelty,  no  sinning  and  no  woe.  So  shall  the 
crimson  stain  be  wiped  from  the  brow  of  the  nations ; 
and  the  lamb  and  the  dove  shall  nestle  in  the  shadow 
of  the  Cross — their  peaceful  emblems.  Then  shall  the 
strong  protect  the  weak,  and  the  greatest  and  most 
powerful  become  voluntary  servants  of  the 'lowly;  for 
the  highest  type  of  greatness  will  be  to  benefit  man- 


A   MKMORIAI,.  179 

kind.  This  is  no  poetical  illusion — no  fair  Utopian 
fancy;  nor  even  a  half-formed  expectation  based  on 
man's  weak  reason.  The  believing  child  knows  as 
certainly  as  he  knows  there  is  a  God  in  heaven  that 
the  mission  enterprise  can  not  fail  until  it  usher  in 
that  Sabbath  of  the  world — the  Christian  Jubilee.  And 
he  knows  that  in  that  day  of  Kden  purity,  and  more 
than  Kden  elevation,  when  the  lamb  and  the  lion  shall 
lie  down  together,  and  Holhiess  shall  be  inscribed  even 
on  the  bells  of  the  horses — when  the  empire  of  the 
Son  of  God  shall  extend  ''  from  sea  to  sea  and  from 
the  rivers  unto  the  ends  of  the  Earth  " — there  will  be 
in  the  history  of  the  past  no  brighter  page  than  the 
humble  tracery  of  these  small  beginnings.  And  when, 
at  last,  the  heavens  are  rolled  together  as  a  scroll,  and 
the  earth  disappears  from  among  her  sister  planets, 
the  fruits  of  this  enterprise  shall  give  richness  to  the 
bloom  of  heaven ;  and  transmuted  to  enduring  jewels, 
shall  glow  with  resplendent  brilliancy  in  the  crown  of 
man's  Redeemer. 


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